Late last Saturday afternoon, as the sun set over our back yard and I began phase two of the garden cleanup, George ran out the back door of the house next to ours and yelped toward the fence, flinging himself into the metal as if he were trying to escape.
“George,” I said, “Can’t you find something else to do?”
I should be careful what I ask of a dachshund.
The next noise I heard, approximately 10 minutes later, was a strange bark from one of George’s doggy housemates. I turned around to see what was happening, and wished, fervently, that I had just continued what I was doing.
There, right on the other side of the fence, was George, taking full advantage of his housemate. And I do mean full advantage. You people of the Internet should know that George is, shall we say, not neutered.
Bob Barker would be appalled, of course, but not nearly as appalled as I was. I thought about trying to snap a picture, but this is a family blog. Or at least it was until now.