This is Murphy. He looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, doesn’t he? He’s Molly’s half brother and he belongs to Mum and Dad. They live near a park with a big lake on it and whenever Murphy goes there he spends all his time chasing ducks, so Mum and Dad were a bit anxious as to how he’d go this weekend when they left him with us to go away for a couple of days.
He was wildly excited about the hens on the first day.
Next morning I was here on my own before the boys got up, just browsing around some blogs. I decided I needed another cup of coffee so I got up and on a whim went over to the dogs’ bed to look at the furry kids.
Only two dogs were there. Where was Murphy?
I grabbed the camera and went outside. I glanced across at the chook run and narrowed my eyes. Was there something ominous in the undergrowth?
He’d worn a track around the outside of their run.
He looked feral. We went back to have a look at the hens.
Then there was a bit of a kerfuffle and a “Ber-Guck!” from inside the coop, so I lifted the lid and peered inside.
Buffy was in the nesting box and Martha was pacing impatiently outside. You could almost see her tapping her foot and looking at her watch.