While I was sitting at the computer yesterday afternoon the phone rang.
'I have your dog in my kitchen.'
So the old door that Husband wedged in between the wall and the bit of fence isn't enough to keep George in. I went to collect him. The lady who had him said she had three labradors. Which is very strange as I couldn't see or hear them and I've never been aware of three dogs living just behind and across the road from us. I wonder if they are imaginary dogs. Probably a lot less trouble than real ones.
Younger Son did a repair job on the fence repair job Husband had done previously. Today I caught George trying to eat his way through it again. I am still waiting for his operation to take effect hormone-wise. (I am really hoping the disappearance of testosterone will remove the urge for a young alpha male to leave home and start his own pack.)
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On the way home in the rain this afternoon Betty's windscreen wipers stopped working again. Now neither Younger Son nor I have a car with working wipers. We blame it on the weather. Overuse.