I Feel Sorry For The Neighbor's Golden Retriever...
Terry Cross
Max is such a handsome dog.
I'm sure he's an entirely good natured and kind fellow as almost all of his breed certainly are...
The problem is that Agatha, who's declared herself the matriarch of Foxglove (she'll be nine her next birthday) has decided that he is a potential intruder and threat to the current litter of puppies,
(more likely, she thinks he may be a potential threat to her biscuit tin with it's vast assortment of doggie goodies).
She spends an inordinate amount of time sitting staring out the mudroom window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the interloper (who is the meekest of dogs by the way), I have to laugh at the little drama that unfolds. he seems enthralled with the puppies and anytime they are out for a romp he tries to visit), I see him up on the hill behind our house, gazing wistfully down at the babies...
Suddenly Agatha spies him and launches like a tiny tigress defending her young,,,
"WOOF WOOF WOOF"
goes she, racing up the the dividing fence and sliding to a stop she shouts warnings and threats as Max beats a hasty retreat up to the safety of his back yard where he lies rather mournfully in a sad golden heap.
Max lies in a sad golden heap.
Well satisfied with herself, little miss trots over to the babies (who have watched all this with great interest),.
She touches noses with them as if to reassure them all is well
(of course they never had any doubt)
"Yes, you're safe now" say's she "I've dispatched that bad dog from next door".
Back into the mudroom she trots to resume her vigil.
"One can't ever be too careful" says she.
