Every night I take off my hearing appliances and go back to being as deaf as 43 doornails. Perdita, my dog, somehow senses this and from the moment my hearing appliances gets put in their box, I have one incredibly avid guard-dog, sensitive to all the night sounds.
It was about 3.30 in the morning.I was asleep in the “spoon” position with Perdita lying as a baby does, close to my chest. Peace reigned. Suddenly panic erupted as Perdita literally threw herself out of the bed, practically dislodging my nose. She raced through to the lounge barking madly. And, no, I didn’t hear her but I know that dog of mine. She was obviously “scaring off an intruder”! Normally this takes about 3 – 5 minutes and then Perdita returns with a triumphant “Ha! Got rid of him” air about her as she re-snuggles against my chest. Only this time she didn’t return. “Perdita!” I called out sleepily, “Come on, come back to bed!”
I waited. No Perdita.
I switched on my sidelight, sat up and called once more. Still no returning prodigal! I got out of bed and went through to the lounge. And there sitting on my dining room table, her eyes turned upwards towards the ceiling was Perdita!
“Perdita, what on earth are you doing? You know you’re not allowed on the dining room table!”
She didn’t even look at me, just wagged her tail in acknowledgement.
“Perdita, honestly!” I said and thoroughly exasperated I scooped her up and made my way back to bed.
I could almost hear Perdita say: “But, Mum, you don’t understand….”
“Go to sleep, Angel.” Warmly ensconsed in bed, Perdita against my chest once more, I was just beginning to fall asleep when the panic-ed nose-dislodger once more erupted. That damn dog! I waited about ten minutes then on went my bedside light and I climbed out of bed once more. I went through to the lounge and sure enough Perdita was once more on my dining room table with her acknowledging tail wagging madly. I walked up to her and said: “Perdita, what’s up?” And, indeed, that was where she was looking – up! Following her gaze I looked up at the top of the curtains. Nada! Nothing! I held Perdita up, near the curtain rail and said: “Look, Angel, nothing!” She squirmed in my arms, attempting to get closer. And that was when I saw it! Two black eyes and a pink nose. I got one almighty fright. A mouse! It took one look at Perdita and I and dived back into the top of the curtains. I was totally pathetic. I instantly ran and got a large wooden spoon which I brandished at the curtains. Please, Gaynor, of what use is a wooden spoon going to be? A little more collectedly, I put down my wooden spoon and picked up a dish towel. Yes! If I could capture the mouse in the towel, then I could take it to the sliding door and that would be that. So…Gaynor joined Perdita on the dining room table armed with the dish towel and searched for the mouse. And I found it. I snapped the towel around it. Ha, I had it! Then gingerly I climbed off my table, opened the sliding door a little further and then shook the towel out in the garden. I looked for the mouse….but couldn’t see it. Oh well, at least it was outside. I closed my sliding door and called: “C’mon, Perdita, back to bed.”
But Perdita wasn’t interested in me or bed. She was seated next to my washstand, her head cocked to one side. What was….? Her wagging tail told me the rest. I peered at the back of my washstand. Forget about the mouse being outside. It was balancing with an arm and foot on the washstand and an arm and foot on the wall, too terrified to venture on the ground. Oh, glory be! If only it would just get outside. Unable to hold it’s position it dropped to the floor and made a bee-line for the bathroom with my bloody Perdita hot on it’s heels. I went into the bathroom to discover my dog wedged behind the washing machine. There was a growl, a bark and silence. Then Perdita’s bum appeared as she backed out. She looked at me, wagged her tail and literally grinned. I looked behind the washing machine and sure enough, there was the mouse – dead.
“Why did you have to kill it? It was no threat to you. It wasn’t a ferocious rat, it wasn’t even a mouse, Perdita. It was a…a dormouse!” I was close to tears as I deposited it’s body in the dustbin outside. Perdita had no such qualms. The only thing that upset her was having to leave the dustbin and go back inside!
Apparently, Dachshunds are ace mouse catchers. They are known for it. So Perdita was merely being true to her nature. Just as we women get pleasure out of being thought attractive, babies like to be rocked, people like to be loved….so Dachshunds like to catch mice.