So it is undoubtedly a universal fact that a mother’s responsibility is to protect her young. Be it animal, vegetable or human. And as such I take my responsibility seriously.
Particularly in the category of animal. And by animal I refer to my youngest. Who has a penchant for grass and lawn. Which has seen me become like Jamie fucking Durie with the grass. I have become a landscape gardener in my spare moments of panic. Truly.
Because my other responsibility is to ensure that The Artist does not lose his mind on a daily basis.
The Artist’s responsibility, which he takes seriously is to ensure that we have an immaculate and beautiful piece of grass in our back garden.
Currently a conflict exists between the overarching goals of my youngest and that of The Artist.
My youngest would like to excavate a tunnel to Brazil (I imagine he would like to get there perhaps for the 2014 Soccer World Cup). As he is not sure which is the most direct route he is currently examining all options.
This evening, as Miss11 and I were having a chat, pre-dinner whilst The Artist was out on a casual 5km run (as you do), my youngest took to the lawn with vigour. In under five minutes he had managed to dig all the way down to the electrical cables.
There was much screaming (apparently in a British accent I was so hysterical) and frantic attempts at damage control on the lawn. Because it’s my job to protect my young.
Unfortunately I missed Option B, clearly the route via Chile. I am not to gardening what my youngest is to tunnelling.
When The Artist noticed on his return, there was again much screaming. Everyone was culpable. He wanted to know how exactly the dog had managed this within 2 metres of us…..
I tried to argue that it was pleasing to see that he had his mojo back (you see he has been not himself since we returned from our holiday and I have been desperately worried).
The Artist is not seeing what is pleasing about this. He is bellowing about the dog and the lawn and about the dog vs the lawn and about paving the lawn vs getting rid of the dog – and I am sure you get the general gist of it all.
From my viewpoint here in the peanut gallery, I simply do not understand how you are able to get angry with this. He is after all, a dog, and a pretty damn gorgeous one at that (with a God given talent for digging).
Love and light