A few weeks ago I spent an afternoon planting lots of tubs in our garden. It looked lovely, and helped to distract the eye away from all the holes and dead patches caused by Beanie’s caustic pee and bone burying. I knew I’d have to keep a close eye on her for a few days, but if the plants survived that long they’d be fine, right?

Two big tubs of heather bit the dust within an hour. But things were looking good with the rest. I planted a big pot of colorful daisy type flowers by the patio doors and Beanie was fascinated by it. Every time she went out I’d tell her “don’t you dare!” and she knew she wasn’t to touch. Sometime she couldn’t resist pressing her nose into the soil…or gently taking a flower head in her mouth. But I was definitely winning the battle and mostly she just looked. Longingly.

Yesterday I let Beanie into the garden telling her “don’t you dare!” as the daisy petals fluttered tantalizingly around her lips. She looked at me with her big sad eyes and trotted down to the end of the garden to bury a rawhide chew. I made Paul a coffee and checked that she was still at the bottom of the garden before taking it upstairs to the office. It couldn’t have taken more than 10 seconds, but here’s what I saw when I glanced down from the office window.

“Don’t worry” said Paul.  “If we’re quick we can probably replant it”.

“It wasn’t me – honest!”