Saturday, July 17, 2010


It was a dark and stormy night. 

The rain had not started, but the wind whipped the trees, lightning flashed overhead and thunder rolled.

And I walked under the trees calling my wayward golden retriever.

20 minutes later, she came shooting out of the inky shadows behind house next door, covered in burrs and panting happily.

I was not amused.

Crimescene (you will note the new escape next to the blocked off previous escape)

Don't they say criminals return to the scene of the crime?

Watching with dismay as the hole is filled with gravel (uncomfortable for little paws to dig in), bricks and stones.

Escape route blocked. 

Until next time.

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