My assistant, Auntie NuNu, has a teensy dog named Ava living with her these days. NuNu, Grandma and Granddad, who live just outside the city, absolutely love the little 17-week-old carnivore.
Ava is awfully cute, but I am not a big fan of hers as she is absolutely ruining the birdwatching in their garden. The garden used to be a suburban bird paradise. There are plenty of trees, many of which produce berries that last throughout winter for birds to eat. There is a fountain to bathe in and to drink from. There are something like 200 birds’ nests in the trees there – which speaks to just how idyllic the garden was.
Was – past tense – because the new resident of the house sees a bird and thinks: lunch.
Ava is a little terror. She is a Scottish Terrier. Does the word terrier come from the word terror? That seems likely to me, but I do not know. I will look it up. I’ll be right back!
Okay, I looked it up and terrier does not mean terror. Le sigh. It’s from the French: chien terrier, which means dog of the earth. To be fair, that is also an appropriate name for the little dog as Ava is a digger. She adores digging holes in the dirt.
But I digress.
Auntie NuNu told me that Ava is being menaced by a large bird of prey. I confess that when she told me about it, I thought turnabout is fair play, but NuNu loves the little beast and is quite worried. I told her I would come over and monitor the situation. I figure I will be able to either put NuNu’s mind at ease or warn her that Ava is indeed in danger.
I’ll let you know what happens in my next post.