On the left is the connection cover of the storm water drain. On the right is where my storm water drain should connect to it. The connecting collar has disintegrated and I have a hole in the ground instead.
I should have put a measure in this photo as the cover is about 40cm below the level of the surrounding grass. The mess in the background is my laughable rockgarden. I haven't been near it since hernextdoor came in to complain about the noxious climbing weed which wasn't mine and thanks to her, the wheelie bin ran over my foot and took my big toenail completely off.
The little guy spent about an hour just digging yesterday, first to find the cover then to find the broken pipe. Believe me that's a heap of dirt piled up under the lemon tree. Thirty years ago that cover was above ground which is why I remembered it. Little guy asked if I had kids and should he make the hole safe. Sweet thing to think I was young enough to have small children. Mind you when they were doing these drains I could never keep the swines out of the holes.
So, 13 degrees this morning and I'm sitting in a chair to protect the precious Bear from falling down the hole. He's already snacked on grass ready for a revenge barf because I'd just put flea lotion on him after getting an arm full of flea bites last night. Notice his lovely new diamond and blue velvet collar?
Can you see the eyes? They're saying "There's that bloody woman with that camera again"
Aha, something new. I'll take my time and creep up on it and that's what he did, with me freezing my bum off in a chair while he stalks a hole in the ground.
Through the lemon tree, stop off for a spray on the rose geranium. Thank you, must remember not to put that in the potpourri.
I haz a hole! And with black dirt, so fetching on my white coat. I missed a shot here where he lay down in the dirt to play with the sand cascading into the hole. I may or may not have been trying to find a lemon to throw at him.
The ears are back, the message must have gone through, "If you go down that hole, I'll bury you without kibble". Just look at all that lovely dirt and I have a white doona cover on the bed where he's going to spend the afternoon. If he doesn't barf up grass and expect me to change it.
8 comments:
I once asked a certain person from Fleetwood about how roman ruins became buried. Now I know.
Loud smiles here. The beautiful, beautiful Bear is a cat like ours. And the revenge barf, and the revenge piddle are legendary. Never mind revenge being a dish best served cold, it is best delivered (in a cat's mind) hot, steaming and on precious surfaces. Or where it can be walked in.
You should probably invest in a dirt coloured doona with a white string pattern, so the dirt and cat hairs don't show.
That's a heck of a hole, so glad you didn't fall in.
The 'revenge barf' sounds like something that I wish *I* could do at times....
...he is rather beautiful, though!
Andrew, I was really surprised at how far down it was but then when the ex left and I ripped off all the ivy from the front of the house, I found all manner of lost treasures including a huge pottery lamp base. Any matchbox car I found which didn't have any wheels always belonged to the BOH and he's still taking wheels off cars.
EC, I'd forgotten the joy of standing on kitty litter in bare feet. I have been cruel though, I've just put his kibble in a see through plastic bucket.
River, I've just invested in 3 cheap clothes thingies, those velvet brush downs that grab cat hair, one in every room. I'm glad Eric the mower didn't break his leg, I'd never find another like him.
Kath, I threw up the other day, first time in years and all I could think of was poor Kath, this happens to her with every migraine. I tell you I could never be bulimic, ever. And beautiful is already in the dirt at 7.30 and it's cold so if he falls in, he's in.
Every single night Tamika belts on the door to be let in. Then as I open the door she runs to the nearest leaf pile/sandy spot/dirt patch to roll about. Such a horror head!
Fenstar, at least she's black with a bit of white.
The barf revenge waited two days until I put my foot in a kibble filled slipper. Oh the joys of cat owning.
I must have commented here - there were cat pictures. hmmm. yesterday my 2-para comment just dissolved at Highriser.
anyhow, just have to share this:
' court has been told a 71-year-old woman attacked her former husband because she was angry about not being invited to his birthday party.
Pamela Turner, from Rushworth, in northern Victoria, pleaded guilty in the County Court to aggravated burglary and intentionally causing serious injury.
In sentencing, Judge Duncan Allen told the court not being invited to her former husband's party caused Turner distress and anger.
The court heard she went to his house, waited for him to return and attacked him with a sledgehammer, a meat cleaver, a knife and a frying pan.
He suffered several stab wounds, cuts and bruises.'
when I read that I laughed like a madwoman.
oh.
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