Hurricane Hector

Hurricane Hector came to visit last weekend, although this time he dragged along the Boho Babe  and Tim the Toolman as well. A fine time was had by all except for Gorgeous George who managed to behave as though he was six years old and had lost his favourite teddy. As usual much huffing and puffing and hand flapping, all of which Heck finds highly entertaining.

Hector was a busy boy. He took me and the Babe for a brisk 5km walk each morning at sparrow fart, followed by several hours of barking at the back door because Gorgeous wouldn't let him in because Fred, one of the cats, was too highly strung to cope. In actual fact Fred is a terrorist who has the determination of an ox and specialises in making everyone else's nerves frazzled.

In between barking and jumping up on GG - Hector is convinced GG is joking when he says he doesn't like dogs - Hector enticed Bertie, my little old white fluffy dog who has very little sense of humour, into several rowdy games of trying to steal Heck's pig trotter. He also dug an enormous hole half way to China in a garden bed Gorgeous George is particularly proud of, helped me in the kitchen by removing a smoked trout from the bench and attempting to swallow it whole, dug all the pebbles out of the water feature, went swimming in the pets' water bowl on the veranda (it is the size of your average mixing bowl), bayed like the Hound of the Baskervilles when the possum with the bad attitude that lives in our roof decided to stomp out for an evening's entertainment, spent a great deal of time standing with his paws on the kitchen bench deciding which of the dishes he would sample next and dropping his ball in front Bertie in the hope that he would throw it for him, despite the fact that Bertie thinks fetching balls is a terrible waste of time, let alone trying to throw them away again.

At the end of a busy weekend, he chillaxed on the couch - which Gorgeous insists he is not allowed to do because "he is a dog, derr" - with his ball, catching some zzzzzzs ready for another busy week of being a terrorist. Gorgeous George is still in therapy and Bertie has buried the pigs' trotters for a rainy day. I am about to start repairing the garden and filling in the holes. It's good, honest work.