Its nearly10pm and I’m ready for bed, so television off and into my wheelchair and whilst my wife goes through her ritual cushion plumping routine, I let the dog out to go to the loo.
He’s a miniature dachshund with a splash of chihuahua thrown in to the mixing pot, he basically looks like a dachshund but with slightly bulging eyes. Its a knee aching 6°c outside and I sit there watching him because we have a healthy fox population and it concerns me that he might be small enough for them to have a go at.
Our lawn is 90′ x 40′ and so off he goes, his little legs furiously working to get to the washing line pole as quick as he can for a wee, I’m pleased because I don’t want to be sat here too long. However I’m not that fortunate and he speeds off to the very end of the garden once he has sprinkled the washing line pole and he then goes into nose down mode, damn he needs a poo and I know at that point that it’s going to be a long process.
The grass is no different from one area to the next but he goes around sniffing and rejecting each area and he works his nose across the width of the end of the garden, he then turns and runs to another part of the lawn and once more his nose goes into the grass sniffing his way along. The PIR light then goes out and the garden is in darkness but I still see him because we put an LED collar on him, but I still wave a pole out the back door up at the light to trigger the sensor and once more the garden is lit.
Surely he can’t take much longer I mutter as I wave the pole to get the light back on for a third time and as it comes on I see him adopt the poo stance, I’m delighted because it’s so damn cold, but no he hears a fence rattle and he runs off barking and bucking like a deranged sausage like donkey.
Finally he settles down and goes back into sniff mode and the light turns off and so I’m once again waving the pole out the door, the lights on and he is still sniffing about. “What is it that he is looking for in a toilet spot” I say to myself, not that I or anyone else knows the answer to that question, but then he finds his place and finishes the job, he looks at me for praise but I’m sat there cold and hardly impressed that he has managed to have a poo, but I have to call out “good boy, come on, in you come” and he trots up the garden like a winning athlete on a victory lap!
So I’m finally tucked up in bed, cold but happy that the poo ritual is over for another night!
Until next time!