Dogrubbish

On bin day, one of the neighbour's dogs was out ripping up bags and chowing down. Most of the neighbours cover their bags with tarps or lean bits of wood over them to deter seagulls, but it's not a successful technique against raiders of the furry kind. Alas, the council do not provide us with bins and clearly it's unfashionable or outré to buy your own. Or perhaps they get nicked? I am the proud possessor of two bins nonetheless, one of which I put the recycling in, otherwise we'd have bags of crap inside or outside the house, neither of which options appeal.

The lid from one has gone. I do not know if it was stolen or whether it flew away.

I told the scavenging canine in authoritative tones that it was a "bad dog" and should "go home". It curled its lip at me scornfully. This made me a bit nervous for my ankles, and for the kiddie-winks so I shoved them in the car (not my ankles, how would I keep my feet on?)

I suppose it saw me as a threat to its rootling. A dog and its dinner.

I don't like it wandering about like that 'though, if it's going to have the cheek to show its teeth to me. It probably thought I had a bloody cheek telling it off, of course. From the safety of behind the car, I told it again it was a bad dog which should go home and then I think its people must have cottoned on, for it started sloping off homewards as if it had been called or perhaps heard its door open.

Dogs that wander about up to no good should be tail-waggy types or suitably-guilty skulk-er-off-erers.