D.O.P.-T.

[weofodthignen]

I walked the dog alone yesterday morning, the housemate having beetled off to work. It was a pretty sunny day and she'd led me on a rather short tour of the park, so on the way back I let myself be taken down a side street. When we came to a corner house with a lovely expansive yard—literally: their catoneaster is sprouting seedlings in the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street—she tugged enthusiastically to cross the street to that house and then set off at what soon became a gallop alongside the fence. I heard loud chicken noises from the other side and the dog started hurling herself at the fence and exploring with her snout to find some opening to get through. They have not one but two side gates and a few knot holes, so I glimpsed a fine specimen of a pale orange fowl on the other side, but I wasn't about to let the dog knock the fence down in pursuit, so I dragged her away. She made several attempts to get me to cut through their rockery or up their driveway to bear down on the chickens via another route, but in vain.