Heavenly Beverley : If You Could Read My Mind...

Gordon Lightfoot was a prolific Canadian singer and songwriter. His song, "If You Could Read My Mind", was released in 1970, apparently conceived as he contemplated his divorce from his first wife, whilst sitting in his empty house in Toronto. I have always loved this song, the message, the emotion, the honesty he appeared to embrace on a failed marriage.

Except with a bit of digging on Google, I have discovered that Gordon was really rather a naughty boy, A serial philanderer, he was just a bloke ruled by his willy. Three wives and a notorious relationship with Cathy Smith, who was not a nice person. She was responsible for giving John Belushi a lethal cocktail of heroin and cocaine in 1982. Sadly, this information doesn't sound like Gordon was an entirely misunderstood party after all... *sigh*

In spite of this disappointment, the title of Gordon's song actually had relevant meaning at Station House this week. Towards the end of the last heatwave, I noted that the courtyards needed attention due to the winds that had blown leaves and other rubble into my previous pristine spaces. I was looking forward to the cool change to take hold of the broom for purposes other than transportation.

Lexi, our eight-month-old Poodle/Retriever has astonished us with her intelligence and her keen interest in gardening. I would swear that she was listening to my desire for a cleaning frenzy and decided to assist.Maybe she had even read my mind...

Recognising that the tissue box had shown homicidal tendencies on a regular basis, she dispatched that risk with gay abandon. In fact, we have had a number of tissue boxes annihilated over the last week, Lexi being the only keen observer to their evil intent.

Lexi's next assessment was to realise the potential danger that my tomato plant possessed. In order to protect us from its lethal intentions, she decided that its elimination was the safest option. She efficiently exterminated this predatory bush, dragging the corpse and most of the potting mix into the house and onward to the dog crate. There, she ripped the final mangled remains asunder, making quite sure it posed no threat to us ever again.

She had also entered the house via her wading pool, sliding delightedly across the lino, leaving a trail of muddy paw prints in her wake. With her lack of attention to avoid leaving forensic details, a future career as a successful burglar will have to be put on the back burner.

Upon arising on that momentous morning, Lexi was basking in her triumph, Stella was avoiding eye contact with any of us, the cat was thoroughly disinterested and the pirate parrot was giggling and chatting. In a final flourish, Lexi had piddled on the floor, knowing that I would have a handy pile of slightly chewed tissues within reach to facilitate the necessary mopping up.

Our Number 1 priority was watering, as per usual. Michael started in the front courtyard, I set the hose in the back courtyard and by the time we met in the middle, our main courtyard had been thoroughly swept and returned to some sense of normality.

One of the fabulous attributes of being somewhat aged is that situations like this merry catastrophe do not upset me anymore. Instead, I stood there, roaring with laughter as Stella discussed beating a fast retreat with Lexi in case my mood altered. What would have been the point of becoming angry? Our puppy on stilts has entered teenagedom and we just have to endure antics of this sort until she grows out of them. Stella, our previous Destructo Dog was particularly famous for chomping her way through innumerable thongs, two leather couches and three club chairs during her teenage months. She is now a thoroughly sensible four year old, who apart from annoying the cat, has settled into a very mellow existence.

The moral of this story? Even during trying or irritating times, we have a bunch of comedic pets whose lives revolve around us, showering us with unconditional love and putting smiles on our faces every single day.