McQueen

Today Sal and I discovered something we'd rather not have discovered. Rowlf knows his way home from...well...not at home. Sal came home from work to find Rowlf sitting under the car port. Odd, she thought, because to get under the car port he needed to have got out of our securely fenced garden. Escaped, if you will.

Apparently both boys were discovered, by the builder working on the property behind ours. He managed to round up Rumpole who, when Sal came home, was in the garden. Rowlf he could not get hold of. How scarey is that? Bloody good job the big fella knows his way home from two streets away. I feel like a complete shit right now.

So how did this happen I hear you ask, as well you should. Well, in the back corner of our garden, behind a bushy tree that is difficult for a person to squeeze past, Rowlf had managed to pull several fence panels away and leave a gap large enough to squeeze himself through. You are safe to assume that said hole now has a large piece of wood nailed over it and the garden is, once again, secure.

Very poor form on my part...though in my defence...on Saturday, when I cut the lawns, I checked the fences and they were fine. And in his defence, he knew he'd done wrong and was extraordinarily and unusually clingy this evening.