Mother’s Mayhem… or… The Dog And Door

32687056_241679086577506_5934327510832513024_nI may not have mentioned this, but my mother is quite… um… short. About 5’4” to be exact. My sons are both over 6 foot and I am a respectable 5’7”… (and ¾ but what’s in a quarter of an inch..hehehe… )

I sometimes tease her bout her lack of stature, although she can be quite fierce. Possibly a Lily, if she was a cat, deceptively small but also quite murderous. Today’s story took place while we were at the hospital, otherwise I would have been straight round to help, laugh a bit and probably even take some photos.

Mother’s day began well enough, and she thought she would do a little gardening, in the front garden. The dogs accompanied her – they do most places, the kitchen… the toilet… the bathroom… sometimes even in the bath to her annoyance. Erin sat like a lady, watching Mum as she weeded. Rocky watched for a little while, then decided that the life of Monty Don was not for him and legged it. He cleared the three foot high hedge like a steeplechaser and galloped off down the street.

What did my mother do? Well, what would any self-respecting 70 something lady do… she hurdled the hedge like a professional and galloped off down the road after Rocky, screaming:

Come back you little $%&*@!!”

Knee problems forgotten – indeed, fallen by the wayside – my mother retrieved the runaway Rocky and marched back up the road. All this time, Erin had been waiting patiently in the garden – “Have a good run did you, Mum? Perhaps we could go in now, I’d quite like a drink of water and a biscuit…”

However, because the back door was open, the connecting door between the hallway and the front room had slammed irrevocably shut. No amount of kicking, swearing, jumping up and down and gibbering in rage (my mother) or furious barking and scratching (the dogs) could open the door.

Mum decided that the best course of action would be to shut the dogs in her bedroom so they couldn’t run off, and go down the alleyway around the side of the next door house to gain access to her kitchen via the back door. My mother bravely battled six foot tall brambles, creeping underneath them where necessary – whilst only wearing a thin t-shirt and trousers – and finally made it to the kitchen.

She tried the connecting door from that side. She couldn’t shift it, but worked out that the force of the door slamming had snapped the barrel of the inside mechanism cleanly in two and jamming the door firmly shut. Having access to tools from the kitchen she thought she might have better luck back on the other side, so, quite quickly, as she could hear the dogs thundering about upstairs and didn’t know what they were doing, she seized a hammer and a screwdriver and ran back outside to fight her way back through the thicket of thorns like some feminist Princess Charming bent on rescuing her incarcerated canines.

My mother burst out of the alleyway, leaves in her hair, scratches all up and down her arms, a wild look in her eyes brandishing the large hammer and screwdriver –

All right love?” said her neighbour from over the road, eyeing her somewhat dubiously.

No I’m $%^&* not!!”

Her neighbour is a lovely young man of about twenty five or so with a wife and two kids, but he at once summoned the help of his friend, a strapping bloke, and his well-equipped tool box. It took them over an hour to get it open. The dogs were delighted to be reunited with the rest of the house…

When I came round later that day after I’d been to the hospital, the dogs were sleeping peacefully in their beds and Mum was sitting innocently on the sofa. I noticed at once she had a bruise on her face from where her hands had slipped and smacked herself on the nose while trying to wrestle open the door.

The whole sorry tale came out – and her concluding words were:

But look! I made bread!”

Really. She never ceases to amaze me, one way or another. I did tell her to make sure she carries her phone at all times though… just in case she gets trapped in a teacup. Or something. No telling what next…

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Butter wouldn’t melt… 

27 thoughts on “Mother’s Mayhem… or… The Dog And Door

      1. I need to pause and think to recall a number, too, but surely there are numbers you can recall, like holidays, years of birth, anniversary, birthdays, etc.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. That, Samantha, is the old school, post war ‘‘tis but a scratch, get on with it” phenomena that seems to be missing in blame someone else compensation culture. Proper inspiring when the saga unfurls to be ended with “But look, I made bread!”

    Awesome woman x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hello Samantha. Sorry I’m late to the party here… real life sucks sometimes.

    Upon reading this brilliant post about your mum, and her dogs, I have come to the conclusion that I love her. I love her determination. Her strong will. I love that she is still of the belief that whatever carp life throws at her, she still can put on her Warrior Princess attitude and take on the Beast which confronts her.

    She’s SOooooo like me in this. I too am a Warrior Princess, despite people telling me I no longer am.

    I hope she forever has her Warrior Princess alive and kicking and living within her soul, and that she calls on it to go to war when ever the moment arises.

    Yes, I absolutely love your mum. … us Warrior Princesses need to acknowledge and appreciate each other whenever we find or are led to each other.

    Sending much love to you too, my fabulous blogging friend who just happens to also be a Warrior Princess. ~ Cobs. xxx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hoping all is well with you? Come and take a moment’s refuge with me in the garden and have a cup of tea…

      Love your description of Warrior Princesses – I think Charlie probably qualifies! My mother is determined and brave – her younger life was difficult but influences her indomitable spirit even now in her seventies…

      Lol – I remember when my sons were younger and we went out with her and the dogs…she took a football with us and when we were at the country park, kicked it straight over a quite steep hill edge…not quite a cliff but steep enough. She looked at us and said: ” Oh what an adventure to go and get the ball back..” or something like that and looked at us expectantly… guess who went and fetched the ball…not me..not the kids..not the dogs…LOL my mother, grimly clambering her way back up the hill clutching tufts of grass… shouldn’t laugh really…needless to say we never took a football out with us again!!!

      Thank you for popping in and your lovely comment, much appreciated as always. Lots of love to you this Sunday afternoon 🙂 xxx

      Liked by 1 person

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