Wacky season is upon us. An Englishwoman lectures me at length on the finer points of email etiquette and then delivers a "terrible" rating on a travel site, the fact that she has never been here notwithstanding. A former guest sends several messages asking me to search for a left-behind phone charger, clearly believing that I run a sideline selling phone chargers, abandoned Y-fronts and single socks on Ebay. A woman has called twice now to ask the name of my inn and then to further inquire as to whether or not she has a reservation here. As luck would have it, she does.
And for some reason, (no doubt a travel program on tv) my guests have started confirming their already confirmed reservations, requiring me to re-confirm confirmations. They also telephone me from the road giving me updates on their arrival times, despite a clear statement in their confirmations and re-confirmations that check in is any time after 3. To me, this means that check in is any time after 3. I've looked carefully at all the words in that sentence and I approve each and every one. I think this is less to do with their reservation than the fact that they sit with a machine in their hands informing the universe of their every move interspersed with pictures of their cat. Well, there is a full house checking in any time after 3 which inevitably means to someone that 1:30 is a good time to show up so I musn't dawdle.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
My dog ate my sofa
My dog has eaten 2 sofas in one week. I think this might be a record for a furry person weighing in at 18 pounds. (Those of you reading this before you visit Blue Skye, please rest assured that my animals are not allowed in the inn. The sofas Jack ate were in our cottage. )
Last summer, Jack created a door for himself and his cohort, Rosebud the Cat, by knocking a hole in the sliding screen door to our deck, leaving a bit of flapping screen to act as a cat door, if you follow my drift. By the time we discovered it, Jack and Rosie were prancing back and forth through it as if to say, "why didn't YOU think of this?" So we, being who we are, thought it was clever and left them to it. This system worked well all summer. It worked well until last week when I heard ripping, tearing and panting and grunting coming from our living room. I went in to find Jack eating the sofa. The mountains of it he couldn't eat were piled up all round the place. Large piles of fuzzy stuff and bits of upholstery. Now, it has to be said, he is a very good little boy for a Jack Russell, and tearing up the house isn't really his thing. He looked at me somewhat sheepishly but also with a look that said, I'll explain everything later. I got his message and lifted up the sofa to find a rather sad looking chipmunk. City dwelling soft hearted readers avert your eyes. Two loud crunches and chippy was sad no more. He wasn't anything any more.
What could I do but praise Jack for saving us from a chipmunk? He was brave, we were safe and the sofa was, well, sort of beside the point.
It was at this point that I should have purchased a man-made catflap. But I didn't. Okay. So a week later the same thing: the ripping, the tearing and grunting and growling. Different sofa. Different chipper. Same result: crunch crunch dead. Only this time, Jack won't leave his kill. He's turned into JACK THE WILD ANIMAL HUNTER. He stood over his dead chippy and would NOT leave it, for like an hour. After demanding he obey me (yeah, right) offering treats and threats, I put on my sunglasses, got my car keys and said, rather conversationally, "so, you want to go for a ride?
He did. He ran to the door. Now here is where sensible people line up on one side and nutters on the other. I took him for a ride. A little dog who had destroyed 2 sofas in 2 weeks. I drove him into the village, turned around and came back. I collected the dead, stuffed the stuffing into what remained of the sofa and settled down to relax. Until I heard the noise.
The scratching noise coming from the living room. I went in and sat in a chair and stared at what remained of my second sofa. Jack joined me and we both stared at the sofa. After a long while we heard "meow". Rosie, in our absence, had come to see what the hoohah was about and got herself stuck in the springs of the destroyed sofa. I managed to finesse her through the wreckage into daylight.
This weekend we are fitting a catflap. Wish us luck.
Last summer, Jack created a door for himself and his cohort, Rosebud the Cat, by knocking a hole in the sliding screen door to our deck, leaving a bit of flapping screen to act as a cat door, if you follow my drift. By the time we discovered it, Jack and Rosie were prancing back and forth through it as if to say, "why didn't YOU think of this?" So we, being who we are, thought it was clever and left them to it. This system worked well all summer. It worked well until last week when I heard ripping, tearing and panting and grunting coming from our living room. I went in to find Jack eating the sofa. The mountains of it he couldn't eat were piled up all round the place. Large piles of fuzzy stuff and bits of upholstery. Now, it has to be said, he is a very good little boy for a Jack Russell, and tearing up the house isn't really his thing. He looked at me somewhat sheepishly but also with a look that said, I'll explain everything later. I got his message and lifted up the sofa to find a rather sad looking chipmunk. City dwelling soft hearted readers avert your eyes. Two loud crunches and chippy was sad no more. He wasn't anything any more.
What could I do but praise Jack for saving us from a chipmunk? He was brave, we were safe and the sofa was, well, sort of beside the point.
It was at this point that I should have purchased a man-made catflap. But I didn't. Okay. So a week later the same thing: the ripping, the tearing and grunting and growling. Different sofa. Different chipper. Same result: crunch crunch dead. Only this time, Jack won't leave his kill. He's turned into JACK THE WILD ANIMAL HUNTER. He stood over his dead chippy and would NOT leave it, for like an hour. After demanding he obey me (yeah, right) offering treats and threats, I put on my sunglasses, got my car keys and said, rather conversationally, "so, you want to go for a ride?
He did. He ran to the door. Now here is where sensible people line up on one side and nutters on the other. I took him for a ride. A little dog who had destroyed 2 sofas in 2 weeks. I drove him into the village, turned around and came back. I collected the dead, stuffed the stuffing into what remained of the sofa and settled down to relax. Until I heard the noise.
The scratching noise coming from the living room. I went in and sat in a chair and stared at what remained of my second sofa. Jack joined me and we both stared at the sofa. After a long while we heard "meow". Rosie, in our absence, had come to see what the hoohah was about and got herself stuck in the springs of the destroyed sofa. I managed to finesse her through the wreckage into daylight.
This weekend we are fitting a catflap. Wish us luck.
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