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Written by Moya Rayner

It was one of those moments you dread, a time stopping flash that sets your heart racing, your temperature rising and panic sets in…. the gate had been left open….

My head spun around like an owl’s, searching desperately for evidence that just this once, he had been a good boy, he had stayed where he was sleeping.

I called, “Dexter, Dexter..”, but no ‘pitter patter’ of tiny paws on the laminate was heard, no squeak of his toy as he jumped off the sofa. Just Meg, his best friend raised her head from her bed out of her sleep and sighed, for she knew he was gone, yet again.

The terrier puppy was missing, where could he have gone this time.

Grabbing some ham from the fridge, some biscuits, a lead, a toy and my shreds of insanity I ran from the kitchen out onto the drive of our new home in the small cul-de-sac, looking around, calling calmly and waving a toy for a game, trying not to look like a neurotic housewife on heat.

Spotted. There he was over by the opposite neighbours back gate, I walked slowly over, he looked at me, wagged his tail, walked towards me, was tempted by the toy and the ham, then, in a split second, he turned, wriggled under their gate and was gone again.

Discretely I tried to look over the gate, (you don’t want to upset the new neighbours do you?). I could hear scuffling, rustling and scurrying, I couldn’t see him, but the sound changed and got further away, he had gone through their neighbours hedge.

A splash. Oh no, the water lover had found a pond. What now! I imagined the neighbours Koi Carp, all 25 of them, worth about a hundred quid each, destroyed by the marine terrorist.

Should I hide, should I wait, should I knock on their front door and beg forgiveness, how could I pay, babysitting for them perhaps, restoring their pond, cleaning the car, how? I grimaced at the thought, then he came back into my mind – got to get him out of there!

I called again, pressed myself up against their boundary wall, scuffed my bare toes as I dragged my heavy weight up to look over, there he was tossing a fish up and around on their pristine lawn. He looked so funny. Mustn’t laugh I thought, little devil, he was having great fun. He was soaked, his scruffy coat glistening in the sun. He was cool, much cooler than I was on this hot summers day. The fish didn’t look too cool, they seemed to be drying out as they lay on the lawn, their scales not quite so shiny, their eyes seemed to look at me in horror!

I don’t know if it was my face that caused it, or the approaching arrogant, streetwise cat that was creeping up the path towards the marine terrorist like a highly trained stealth mercenary, he was out for revenge and a free lunch. Who was this whippersnapper that was stealing from his local takeaway?

So, what could I do? I let myself drop down the wall and waited, heard the hiss, the yelp, the frantic scurry, the slipping of muddy paws down the bank, I imagined the huge mercenary in his tortoiseshell camouflage, swiping his long claws into the marine terrorist, causing him excruciating pain, forcing him to turn on his tail and run …. for home, to Meg, … to me .. leaving the tortie to take the blame.

I made sure I shut the gate, picked up the newspaper and smugly sat in the chair in the garden. It would be a nice afternoon, just me, Meg and Dexter…. .

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