Mid-Morning Chorus

After a very, very late night of typing away getting the magazine together I finally reached my bed around 4am - not a problem as I can usually get a lie in, as Damian is the early morning dog walker in the family.  This holds true, except on a couple of days of the week.

The first is a Thursday, which around here is bin day. I can guarantee that if the beeping of the large bin wagon doesn't wake me from much needed slumber, the clanking of the bin being catapulted up into the air to dispose of the contents will.  The glass recycling bin is the worst, so I try not to do really late nights on a Wednesday.

The second day is harder to plan for, and is the one that gets Lilly is involved.

Let me explain...

Our next door neighbour looks after her sister's dog during the week. Dora is a wiry-haired Patterdale Terrier who is also Lilly's favourite playmate, but Dora seems to have a pathological hate/mistrust for window cleaners (she also likes to attack the ankles of cyclists, but that's for another time).

Our neighbour employs the services of said window cleaner every couple of weeks which sets Dora off into a cacophony of barking when he is doing the lounge window, and because we live in a terraced house the noise transmits through the 1910-built wall straight into the ever-alert ears of the lovely Lilly.

On hearing her best mate having a barking fit, that obviously says in dog language "There is a bad man outside, and he must be slain by my foot tall body and mighty bitey teeth!",  Lilly flies into action.

She jumps up from her previous happy slumber on the armchair, launches herself on to the back of the chair, and then with front feet on the windowsill joins in with barking.

I feel that Lilly thinks she is doing her bit to not only aid Dora in her quest to rid the world of evil window washers, but also to alert the rest of the neighbourhood, in jungle drums style, that nefarious beings are in the vicinity.

Being fast asleep, and being woken by Lilly going mental in the room below is a rather startling thing, and it takes a moment for the sound to register.

In my bleary-eyed state it takes another second or so to realise that the noise is coming from downstairs.  Within a split second I launch myself out of bed, concerned that someone is breaking in, as normally the only time Lilly barks is when someone comes in the house without one of us letting them in (my Father-in-Law is usually the culprit).

Launching out of bed and down the stairs involves navigating the stairs of death (narrow steps and steep incline), at high speed, only to arrive at the bottom to peek round the door to find out what's going on.

I have to peek as we are a naked sleeper household, and our lounge has a rather large window that faces straight into the street. I really don't want to burn the retinas of anyone passing with an eyeful of pink wobbling flesh!

Once the situation is assessed, and I realise that we are in no danger from a diabolical knife-weilding burglar, and it's only the window cleaner,  I then have to deal with Lilly in full Cujo mode.

It is so much fun trying to calm a barking dog in the front window, whilst also trying to cover my nakedness with whatever I can find. It could be a tea towel or a supermarket bag, but I can guarantee it is usually something that is too small to do the job properly.

At this point I must apologise deeply to our neighbour across the street, as he is the one who has probably seen the most, and before you think he would appreciate it, I can tell you he would definitely prefer it to be Damian.

Once calm, and the hackles have diminished, Lilly goes back to her sweet and quiet demeanour.......until next window day.

Even if Dora isn't about, it has now become her 'thing' too - if Lilly sees anyone carrying a ladder, it doesn't even have to be a window cleaner, she sets off barking. Luckily this doesn't happen very often.

So now, as well as 'go to bed earlier' Wednesdays, I have to plan the street's window washing activities into the mix, the trouble being he doesn't always have a regular schedule.

If this tale makes no sense, forgiveme, and note that last night I went to bed at 3.30ish, and next door's windows are sparkling.