I should know better

What was meant to be a quiet afternoon was suddenly disturbed by a huge screeching chorus of Papillon voices. I started the usual emergency dash, only to realise that they were in a dense thicket of shrubs and brambles (I have a lot of those), and were completely unreachable.

The noise rose - a very predatory sound. Were they killing something in there? Was it a fight ? I shouted. I tried to force my way in. But I just couldn`t reach them.....

And suddenly realised what would. I turned on the hose. I live at the end of the main, and the pressure is very high. This can bring problems (see Archive, August 4 2004), but it can have its advantages.

The hose reached them easily, at almost Fire Brigade pressure. The noise cut out instantly, as a hysterical pack of small dogs suddenly experienced the joys of life underwater, without any helpful commentary from David Attenborough. I kept it going.

A sad trail of small soaked people began to slink out of the undergrowth, throwing me looks that would have frozen hell. They stood around and dripped reproachfully. How could I have spoiled their fun? Had I no sense of humour?

For once I could tell exactly who the perps were. The dry dogs grinned and wagged their tails virtuously.....Truly was particularly superior. The wet criminals kept well apart, dreading what might follow - perhaps the dreaded shampoo and drier, the ultimate punishments?

It was a warm afternoon and they would soon dry. I administered a tongue - lashing in which the words "pond life" featured prominently and only then realised how appropriate that was.

If they behave like that again, they had better think about growing fins.