Broken fences: A disaster waiting to happen.

So, I’m running a little behind again, which means that I’m going to have to keep this short today.

Let’s skip the morning rituals, shall we? They really were just the same as they always are making them a little redundant at this point.
Talking about redundant, today’s editing session was basically the same as yesterday and got us to a solid fourth of the book. Excellent. We’re making headway there at least.

After about three hours of editing, big brother and I put our computers away and I head on down the property to resume gardening. What with the main two terraces having been worked through during the days that passed, I climb farther down to start on the lowest part that is, as of yet, untouched.

I need to retrace my steps several times, since blind and deaf Bommel decides to follow the pack and me down to the fence…and proceeds to loose my scent in the high weeds and grass. The poor Bobtail keeps straying from the track the dogs make and every time I need to go back to touch his face and then let him follow my scent until we’re as low as we can go and he can safely navigate through the wild.

While big brother is at the top of the property, doing a rush repair job on the gate, the younger sibs join me below. Little brother climbs the large mimosa tree that lost it’s top during the October hurricane and starts sawing into the broken wood while I tackle dead trees and weeds alike on the ground.

A large pile of wood debris rapidly gathers and we’re in the midst of finishing with the last trunk when our northern neighbors arrive home and alert the dogs to a (a not so) welcome distraction.
That’s when today’s potential disaster strikes.

Four of our pack are daintily walking towards the neighbor’s property, and it takes us a full second to realize it before we start shouting at the dogs to get their butts back where they belong, as we scramble to see where they managed to get through the ten year old fence.

It only takes a minute to reach the spot where somehow, Sitabah, Touri, Dax and Matti have managed the worm their way under the fencing, creating a hole that appears to be screaming for the other dogs to follow suit. Middle sister jumps in front of the hole, while I start tugging at a part of the fence that has drooped so low the dogs could easily scale it.

Exasperated about their disobedience I’m calling my three dogs back, leaning over the fence the jerk small Dax (pocket Beagle) back inside, while I bend my leg and set it so that little brother can step on the extending limb to vault over the fence.

While he goes in hasty pursuit…the neighbor’s dog has appeared, and is curiously watching the approaching dogs…my sisters start herding the rest of the pack up the mountain towards the second fence that is to keep more from escaping the last (now broken) boundary.

Of course, my dogs refuse to follow and crowd closely around me while I lean out and manage to grab Touri by the scruff of his neck. With one jerk he’s back inside, and I’m still shouting at Sitabah while little brother chases after his black lab, Matti, who’s excitedly heading for the neighbor’s dog.

Sitabah, always scared of little brother, rushes back and starts moving back and forth in front of the fence in search for a way back in. Rather than bother with the hole, I lean out once more and grab the loose skin of her neck. I then hook my other arm under her stomach so I can heave her over instead.

While doing this, several of the other dogs are already trying to wiggle their way through the hole and I hurry towards it just a second too late to grab Gadah, who saw her chance for adventure and took it. Luckily she listens and worms her way back in when I squat down and order her back inside.

Shouting up the mountain for the sisters to get repairing tools, wire and metal pins for fastening, I slam my foot on the bottom of the fence and try to keep it shut until the necessities and big brother arrive.

While I’m discussing our options with big brother–accidentally shifting my foot just a fraction–Labhana manages a quick escape, too, but returns after a firm reprimand and the order to come to heel. Since there is little we can do, what with my personal pack still looking for a way through the fence, we finally decide to just take the dogs up to the house–dusk is rapidly approaching nonetheless–and leave the task for tomorrow.

We will need to do some serious weeding before fastening new top and bottom wires that will keep the fence in place. Now it won’t be possible what with the sun already disappearing, and since the top fence has been repaired during the past few days, disaster is unlikely to strike as long as we keep the gates closed.

That settled, we gather our tools and head on up.
While big brother helps Bommel–the Bobtail is unable to make the trip on his own now that the trip down has tired him considerably–I herd my pack through the gate and close it behind me.

Knight II is throwing up a fuss, and I spend a good five minutes disciplining him until he finally calms down enough not to be a danger to me or the other dogs.
The big lug really doesn’t know his own strength, and since he still thinks he’s a puppy, and acts like it, I need to reaffirm my status as the Alpha of the pack before he does something we’re both going to regret. It is an exhausting and time consuming battle of wills, but in the end he submits and settles down.

Rather than cook an actual meal we all decide to make a snack for ourselves. While the younger sibs go for egg rolls, I prepare bread with lettuce, tomatoes, grilled cheese, red peppers and onion, with a yogurt sauce on it for mom, big brother, and myself. The meal does the trick well enough and it’s fast, at least.

Forty minutes later big brother and I are on our way to town for another quick lesson. It doesn’t go well today, but I don’t care.
I’m not feeling too cheerful, however, when we return home, and neither is big brother. The lessons are always exhausting, and I have no idea why, it’s not like I don’t know what to do, or that I’m learning anything new.

It doesn’t improve our mood either that the story we submitted to a publisher recently was rejected. But I remind myself that I’m not surprised after reading a variety of stories that have been published there of late. The stories are horrid, and the writing style…well, let’s just say that I liked the publisher a lot better ten years ago, which was why I submitted the story to them in the first place.

We watch “House” and “The Mentalist” both of which were recorded during our absence and then the day has pretty much come to an end.

Big brother and I talk for a long time, discussing our next steps in all the things that still need to be done and plan. It is a time-consuming effort, but on days such as these, planning is the best option.