A Good Fence...
Two years ago, when I was still living in England, Moss and I went to my son's Speech Day. When we arrived home late in the evening we were horrified to find the Fire Brigade parked in our front drive. Rich ran off to enquire from the neighbours what had happened and someone (who didn't know us) informed us that there was a fire at 'THAT' house (pointing to our own home). It turned out that the little old lady who lived nextdoor had set a fire against our fence and the whole of the panel fencing was gone.Well, the little old lady pleaded that she didn't have a bean and, taking pity on her state, we ultimately accepted her 'replacement' fencing which was three horizontal strands of (non-barbed) wire strung between some upright posts.
Now this was a great curiosity for the juvenile Mossy, whose four panelled garden walls had suddenly opened up. Mossy could now see cars and PEOPLE visiting the Bottle and Paper Banks in the carpark across by the station.
Unfortunately, having lived with us in that house for two years she was totally immune to the fact that at the end of the garden and between us and the Station Car Park lay the High Speed Rail Track (four tracks) averaging one 125mph train every 15 minutes in each direction (and a number of slower moving trains in between).
Yes . . . you guessed it . . . one Sunday morning I was on the computer, thinking Mossy was lying close at hand, and the phone rang. A lady was calling from the phonebox at the Railway Station. "YOUR DOG JUST CROSSED THE RAILWAY LINE AND CAME TO THE STATION."
Bless the good samaritan's heart - in the few minutes it took me to drive hastily to the station, her train arrived and, left with no other course, she shut Mossy into the phone booth. I arrived at the deserted station and there was a black labrador with happy tail waving from inside the glass phone box! [Thankfully, all in one piece.]
Wendy
West Cork
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