14/02/2026 Doggie PR

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I'm back up the hill in Mount Barker, doing a re-run house sit with two feisty little daschunds that you might remember from this time last year.  

Butter wouldn't melt in our mouths.

Not that they remembered us at all, barking their little heads off the minute we arrived to meet and greet their humans and find out (oh joy!) that they (the humans, not the dogs) had installed automatic watering over most of their extensive garden.  Roger woke every morning to the hiss and splutter of sprinklers, imagining his former self going through the complicated process of turning taps and timers on and off while dodging last night's rabbit poo in the early morning light.

The garden was lovely too.

It only took one dinner for Dog 1 to decide that we were OK humans in lieu of his own.  Alas, Dog 2 remained unconvinced.  She grudgingly accepted me as a warm body against which to snuggle on the couch at night but Roger was firmly in the Scary Man camp.  She refused to come inside if he was in the kitchen, and spent all day hiding in her human's bedroom until I took her outside by force, fearing puppy bladder accidents. When Roger, seeking to curry favour, fed her she gulped her dinner in anxious mouthfuls in between nervous dashes to the door.  When she wanted to play in the evening I hid in the bedroom while Roger achieved professional levels of Hallway Fetch only to be snubbed immediately the game ended.  

Halfway through our sit, the success of our campaign to improve Roger's public (dog) relations looks doubtful, no ground being conceded on either side.

I'll leave you with sunrise over Mt Barker.






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