The witching hour

Parents of human children tell that over time they learn to identify the various screams and what they mean. A frustrated scream; give me my toy back. An annoyed scream; I don’t like what you are doing. I’ve fallen down cry; might need intervention after you’ve finished your cup of tea. A broken bone scream; rare, but needs intervention now. But when there is silence is when the real mischief is happening.

As a parent of doggy children I’ve learnt to identify the various puppy sounds. The excited, let’s play bark. The frustrated I want your bone bark replied by a don’t get too close to my bone growl. The clatter of the broom being dragged from the cupboard (sacrifice it in the name of minimal damage). The crack and pop of my ventolin inhaler cap being destroyed; requires limited intervention to rescue the cartridge. But the real damage is done during periods of silence. This is the witching hour sometime between 6 a.m. and 7 a.m.

Yes, that’s when I have the most fun (until you come and spoil it)!

The culprits

The culprits


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