Bock’s Hound Breaks Out

Dog day afternoon

It was a beautiful day.  Simply gorgeous.  Only a man with a heart of stone could fail to wander out and enjoy the lovely bright skies and the warmth.

I have a heart of stone and my dog has a heart of pure sulphur which is why neither of us ventured into the morning sunshine.  We had issues to resolve.

Why do you attack postmen and tinkers?


Why do you attack neighbours’ dogs and run away spitting out lumps of fur?


When did you achieve such a mastery of deductive reasoning?


The first two questions were a trick.  What I really wanted to know was how a small dog with an even smaller brain-pan can analyse my defences and identify precisely the weak point to probe successfully.

I’ve had this minor battle of wits going on for a few years now, and I have to tell you, the dog is winning.

In the early days, it was simple enough.  There’s a hole in the wall.   That’s how the dog is escaping and savaging the postman.  Fix hole.

The gate isn’t closing properly.  That’s how the dog is getting out to murder the little corgi from up the road.  Fix gate.

But then it became more nuanced, like the time I was sitting in the garden enjoying a well-deserved glass of wine when I noticed  a small shape walking along the top of the wall.

A cat?  No — a dog.  My dog, making his homicidal escape.

Or the time I had to set up cameras on tripods and drive away from the house because the dog wouldn’t come out when called in case I’d see how he was escaping.

It’s driving me crazy.  Every time I close off an escape route, the dog sits down, lights a pipe, strokes his chin and says Hmm. Let’s see now.

Yesterday, I found another escape route which I closed off by building a section of fence and bolting it to a wall, ending forever any possibility of the Hound of Satan breaking out and terrorising those who live near me.


I left my car in town last night, very sensibly, because I went to see the incomparable Groove Junction in Dolans, a fine outfit of musicians and featuring the great Carlos Hercules on drums.

Now, as it happens, my neighbour nnormally goes to all these gigs, but he had a quiet night in for some reason best known to himself, and was up bright as a button before the birds brushed their teeth.   Decent fellow that he is, he kindly offered me a lift, but as we drove away he looked back.

I think your dog is following us.

You know what?  I said.  Postmen, tinkers and corgis can all fuck off.  I’m going to the market, and then I’m watching the match.  Normal service resumes tomorrow.


The Hound of Satan

Dinner with the Hound of Satan

My Dogs

Working dogs


8 thoughts on “Bock’s Hound Breaks Out

  1. I had a 3-legged terrier who would do that as well.

    I’d spend ages trying to make sure the fence was absolutely flush with the ground using tent pins and rocks, while he’s shuffling around on my flower patch, whistling while shaking packets of dirt out of his trousers (hopping into the top bunk that night was a surprise – or was that The Great Escape?).

    those terriers are indefatigable, and indestructible. with three legs, you’d guess that should slow him down a bit, but his attitude was “pah – the extra leg was in the way anyway”.

    after a while I just gave up. when people would complain that the dog was running around in the traffic (what traffic? it was Clones in Monaghan – there’s no traffic!), I’d shrug and just tell them to send me the clean-up bill when he finally made that one single mistake that we all make sooner or later.

  2. Had to fence around the coal bunker yesterday – both terriers were able to climb on top of it to leap the fence!

  3. A Corgi in Limerick you say? For the love of all things black and creamy, tell me they didn’t call him Charlie, Buckingham or even fecking Prince!

  4. Kae — I remember a fella who had a three-legged dog called Tripod.

    Kropotnikus — Terrierism

    Ruth — Yep. Been there.

    Jimmy — I don’t know what they called the little bastard, but when they called him back, he kept running.

  5. What is it with dogs and postmen? There is a small dog in my neighbourhood that is very mild mannered and gets on very well with all the children, but when he sees the postman he goes ballistic and tries to bite his legs. This only happens with the postman .

  6. Had a husky some years ago (in England) and it would put Steve McQueen to shame. He could jump, dig, or if necessary transport himself star trek style to the other side of a 6ft fence.

    A regular Houdini, i remember one time my daughter and myself having searched for him for hours relinquishing and calling the local police station. ‘Has anyone found a husky?’ – Yes sir he’s here in a cell!

    Off we got to Watford copshop, and sure enough there he was behind bars! ‘Can we keep him?’ asks the female officer – nope says we :-)

    Anyway we’re about to leave with said hound (Taz by name) and i turn to my daughter – ‘have you got the lead’. No she says, have you? The police officer looks on…

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