One night while I did sentry duty around the house, I saw an amazing display of “cheekiness” in the backyard. Me looking through the glass doors to the deck, you understand.
First, in the moonlight, a dance of several critters that I haven’t seen the like before. Pointy snouts, and stripy bottoms. Four of them littler than the one about the size of a rabbit.
Prey! Spit drooled from my mouth. The mother surely had too many young?
Oh no! A large pale winged shape flew over. All of the critters flashed in under the rosemary bush.
That was an owl checking out my backyard? All I could do was angrily sweep my tail. Back and forth. Back and forth.
After a while, and when the critters didn’t show their noses, I went to the front of the house. To see what I could see. That owl maybe. Or the birds roosting near the nestbox.
In the morning, the pernickety old woman noticed a havoc when she walked out to the sun-room table. Thunk! She set teapot down hard.
“What on Earth?” she said. Sliding open a door, she went striding out. Me with her. “Dear dear dear! Who’s been digging in our planter?”
I tried to tell her but she didn’t listen. She quartered the yard, hunting for clues. I led the way to the dance floor.
“Aha!” she said, staring at a pair of alien footprints. “I think I have the picture.”
Back we went to the planter. She surveyed the mess with knowing eyes. “Bandicoots,” she said. “Digging for my precious worms and beetle grubs.”
I put my paw up for the job of scaring off the critters but of course the pernickety old woman looked right over me. She carried over logs of wood, and searched through the garage for shiny things she’d thrown out and retrieved twice before.
“That should keep them guessing.”
