Dogs will do

The dogs are in trouble. They're banned from the woods at the back of the house and my grand-dog, Hamish, is probably banned from the car forever! His sin was to scoff three chicken breasts while Michael and Charlie were in Scummerfields buying the rest of dinner. To do that he had to leap from the boot of the car to the front seat (no mean feat for His Corpulence) and negotiate plastic bags and sealed polythene. No ill effects; he expected breakfast as usual the following morning (he didn't get it).

Jonny and Jess' sin was altogether more gross and perhaps if you're squeamish you should stop reading now. They both disappeared up the back on Thursday night and returned stinking appallingly. I gave Jess - who returned first - an apple to eat to freshen her breath so that I could at least be in the same room as her but Jonny, when he finally appeared, refused it. No wonder - he was obviously at bursting point, as was revealed a few minutes later (fortunately on the front lawn rather than the sitting room carpet).

Rob manfully decided to go and see what they'd been eating while I kept an eye on Jess in case she decided to share her unwise meal too; she didn't - her stomach is cast iron. It turned out to be the carcass of a baby deer - wah! Poor wee thing. I think it explains the disappearance of a terrier a couple of days earlier - its owners spent ages as the top of the garden shouting for it - and the fact that my dogs were wired all week, barking and barking at seemingly nothing.

All I can say is yuck! Remind me why I love dogs . . .