I was wondering why no letters came to my house for a week. Normally, the bills flood through the letterbox and straight into the domestic incinerator I cunningly set up just inside the front door, apart from those chewed into little pieces by the Hound of Satan.
What is it with dogs? Why do they feel the need to tear apart your letters, your newspapers and that expensive random access memory you ordered from eBay?
Why, dog? Why you act like a dog?
It took the Hound of Satan a couple of days to figure this one out, to my surprise. Normally, it takes him about twenty three seconds to analyse any given situation. When my neighbour chopped down his thick hedge, I was certain that the Hound would be straight over the wall and out to attack passing old-age pensioners and postmen, but no. It didn’t happen.
Why? Who knows? My theory is that the whole thing was a ploy to make me complacent, and if that was the Hound’s plan, it worked.
What’s the expression? Lulled into a false sense of security.
The Hound played it pretty well until I arrived home unexpectedly to find him roaming the street snarling and searching for a victim to chew. This is not good. I’m faced with a serious problem, and also a shortage of bills. As long as this animal remains at large, I’ll receive no demands for money, but at the same time, while this creature remains free, nobody is safe.
I consult with friends. What to do? Someone suggests buying one of those collar systems that deliver an electric shock if the dog goes near a wire. I don’t like this idea because I don’t wish to inflict pain on any animal, but I’m also aware that the Hound of Satan has no such scruples and would be quite happy to inflict pain on anything that moves.
All the same, what would be the harm in going to a pet shop to find out how much it would cost? That’s what I did, and they told me it would cost €300, so I told them to fuck off and that was that.
What did I do instead? Simple. I hitched up the trailer and headed off to the builder’s yard where I bought €20 worth of timber. I then built a little trellis and bolted it to the top of the wall. No more mangled postmen or traumatised poodles.
Is there a downside? Yes. I’m up to my neck in bills.
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