Death is Her Gift

Indymel again here. 

I've been busy getting the vegetable garden ready for this summer. We weren't in the house yet by this time last year. I got a late start, so we really didn't start getting tomatoes until late August/early September. This year I want a better harvest. I've turned over the entire vegetable bed, and I've planted about 1/3 of it in peas, lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower, brussel sprouts, and a couple of herbs. I'll do another big round of planting in early May.

Rosie's not making it easy. Before I got a short fence up around the veggies, she was prancing joyfully through the rows and trampling the romaine. She especially loves to make off with the clods of grass I've been removing and shake the dirt off their roots, splattering everyone within a 10 ft radius with grit.

Two nights ago, I left her alone in the backyard for 15 minutes while I went around front to plant some pansies and tulips and to talk to the neighbor across the street. When I returned, Rosie had run amuck with two 40 lb bags of topsoil. (Keep in mind that Rosie weighs about 49 lbs herself– so the dog can lift at least 80% of her own body weight with her gums alone.) She had managed to spread the majority of the dirt across the lawn– everywhere except but in its intended final resting place in the vegetable garden. Needless to say, I don't trust her alone anymore. This weekend, I'm buying chicken wire to spread liberally over anything I don't want her to touch. If that doesn't work, does anyone know where they sell that razor wire they put around prison fences?


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