I’ve been mostly posting Merv and fAngus stuff lately because my old man usually contents himself with napping in the shade (and dirt, because of course it’s in the dirt) where he can see the driveway. This way, he can nap with one beady Shepherd-guard eye open as needed. My boy is always on watch.
Last week, when the siding crew came to get their equipment from the dog yard, someone closed the gate but didn’t latch it. I didn’t realize it wasn’t latched. My moment of stupidity resulted in a random doorbell ring at 12:30. It was the golf course owner, on a golf cart, asking if I was missing some wayward dogs and would I like a ride over to come find them.
OMG.
I toodled along the woods up the 18th green and asked the retired dudes if they saw my idiots. They had indeed, and pointed me toward the 17th. I saw them in the pond. Because OF COURSE they were thirsty after running all over kingdom come harassing golfers and generally making adorable nuisances of themselves. Luckily no one was peeved at me or the dogs (one golfer said they gave him bad advice on which wedge to use, so Ragnar owes him a beer), and I had leashes with me, which is important because those dogs don’t fit on a golf cart. I drove the cart with one hand and led the fools back to the club house like I was ponying horses. Then we walked home and they both splooted on the cold floor for a while and slept the rest of the day.
Today’s Old Man adventure was much more “get off my lawn” and much less “HEYHEYHEY I’m gonna interrupt your game and run across YOUR lawn!” Ragnar, ever watchful, is far too old and slow to actually catch a squirrel, you see. But he does try, and he is…persistent.
Eventually I did take pity on them both and brought Ragnar in the house for some water and a good-job-mighty-yard-protector treat.
I presume Red Sonja escaped unharmed, squirrely wrath intact.
No Pithy Phrase 