Garden Fence

I figured that once the garden was planted, Milo wouldn’t be all that interested in it.  And anyway, he has to jump up to get into it—pipsqueak that he is.  So I blithely planted the rest of the plants and sowed lettuce, carrot and radish seeds.  It turns out that Milo doesn’t have to jump to grab those little plastic stakes that identify what’s growing there.  At once it’s there, and the next thing you know, it’s gone. And there I am chasing the white streak around the yard to retrieve the damned thing before he eats it.  He does love to be chased as does any self-respecting dog.  Given my response to his mucking around in the dirt, he forgot the plastic tags and opted for full-body immersion. 

Bichon frises are all white with fluffy fur—fluffy all the way down to their toes.  The bottom of their legs look like big white dust mops—unless, of course, they are covered in mud when they look instead like something that was used to clean the carburetor. 

Like an epiphany, I realized we needed a fence. 

So. . . Off to Home Depot—again! 

You remember what I said in my previous blog about how many of my friends asked about fencing for the gardening?  Well, it turns out they were delicately suggesting I might want to rethink the notion of enclosing the garden—verdant paradise though I might have wanted it to be.  So now I am forced to step over the fence.  Not in the least graceful, I assure you.  But at least I know the plants have a better chance at survival.