I told Noa that the rabbits wouldn't be fooled by the disguise but looking closely at the picture now
Of course here she is looking like a normal sort of dog - all big paws and long tongue and wet nose and wanting to eat everything from biscuits to socks to pencils and notebooks but Rocket and I are beginning to think otherwise.
She's been trained well in all things dog so we won't suspect. Those sweet pleading loyal looking eyes, the ability to turn the back lawn into a combination of Gardener's Question Time (" what do we do with the large holes in our lawn?") to the back yard of Toys R Us. The tiger has his limbs in all four corners now, the squeeky sheep's squeek is down one of the holes, the teddy's ears are nowhere to be seen and the blue rubber sausage dog which we affectionately call the blue penis no longer has any legs. But Rocket and I are suspicious.
He thinks if he closes his eyes it will all go away. Naturally she hasn't stopped growing and is now twice Rocket's size and no one at the puppy training classes likes her playing with their puppies because they're all the size of her head.
Although Rocket likes biting her ears I think he secretly hopes the mother ship will come and collect her and I've seen him peering over the horizon at dusk in the hope he can see some flashing lights which are not our Lights R Us twinkling solar fairy ones strewn round the decking. He got very excited one day when he heard a sort of whirring noise and thought the ship had come for her but it turned out to be our neighbour's son's drone.
Meanwhile out on the corvid front - the other day I opened up the doors for them to fly away. The one that couldn't fly was first out and I had to catch him as he couldn't get off the ground and would not have survived the night or even the rest of the day with the cats around. The others kept sitting on the door frame and not wanting to fly out the door into the azure blue skies of freedom. Eventually three left and one remained along with the one who couldn't fly which I thought would be company for each other until the phone rang and the wildlife centre asked if I could look after two more. So now there are four which is one less than five.
Nancy my familiar doesn't often appear on the blog but here she is having entered a nunnery. I'm going to re-name her Ophelia-get-thee-to-a-nunnery.
Pocket however - still cosying up to poor Rocket assures me he has no further dog jokes or pearls of wisdom and is having an Uncle Vanya moment and may start writing plays. I told him Cats had already been done. He turned up his nose, half closed his eyes, brisked up his whiskers and told me Cats was not a play but a mewsical.
Some flowers are still blooming in the garden or rather in the jug
these glorious perennial sweet peas are a late arrival
This is the LAST of the Covid Poems written during lockdown. I will not be going to this particular subject again.
Covid Days
On the first day the thrush sang in the philadelphus
there were no planes to dull his dulcet tones.
On the second day the television news crawled up the walls
and took up residence in the hallway carpet.
On the third day I baked bread
also on the fourth day and the tenth day
and the fifteenth day when I did not
buy toilet paper.
On the sixteenth day the phone rang
“Do you need a food box, anyone to do your shopping
pick up a prescription?”
The lone onion in the bowl had grown a shoot
and the three potatoes in the basket
were producing roots.
No need I said but thanks for asking.
On the twentieth day the dogs started howling
on the twenty second day the phones stopped ringing
on the twenty fifth day the rooks cloaked
in the air somewhere between the corn and the clouds
there were still no planes to override
the sound of their flapping wings.
On the thirtieth day someone knocked on the door
I did not answer.
