The wienie dog incident, Tales of de-gardening!

The saga began innocently enough. I, the gentle gardener, newly rediscovering my, play in the dirt roots, so to speak. Me against the elements and those pesky horticultural demons that had haunted my recent gardening past.

But this year was going to be different. No browning patches of once optimistically planted flora. No clinging to the, vine of life herbage; in need of resuscitation stat! This was the year I, the handy backyard gardener, would do his farmer father proud. I even had visions of state champion gourds in my head, but I get ahead of myself.

First I must actually put something in the ground, right? That I did starting with some small starter plants and flowers I picked up at my local gardening proprietor. After spending and morning and afternoon, playing in the dirt, shoveling, spading and generally just moving a lot of terra firma around, I was satisfied with my endeavors and thought it time to sit back and enjoy the fruits, er veggies of my labors.

That's when it all began. That's when the Dachshund named Rio came into the picture. I'd call him a wienie dog but this is after all family entertainment, though there have been many different incarnations of the tiny canine's name muttered under my breath since our first gardening encounter.

It seems that Rio enjoys gardening as much as I do. Wait, I've erred. Rio enjoys de-gardening as much as I. It seems the munchkin takes exception to the method, location or style of my planting ways. Either that or she has a secret hidden agenda, a doggie vendetta, if you will, based on a past misdeed on my part.

I suspect the "my socks are not a chewy" incident, but I'll save that conflict for another time.

At every opportune moment, Rio, the miniature Wienie dog will sneak upon my favorite newly planted seedling of beauty and decide either to stomp, chew or otherwise demolish a gardeners best efforts.

It first began with clandestine forays into my fields of greens. I imagine the litter critter clad in petunia, pepper, and tomato camouflage ready to do battle against my dear friends.

They never even saw it coming when the wienster snuck upon them and vigorously began the de-gardening she is now infamous for.

As of late the incidents have become blatant. She no longer waits for me to abandon my leafy friends. Now she begins the deconstruction of my efforts right in front of my eyes. In fact, to Rio it's become a competition. Who can reach the affected greenery quickest?

I plant, she digs. She digs, I re-plant, and on it goes. When will the abomination end!?

I know that you too, have your horticultural horror. Most likely based around the occasional rabbit, crow or pesky chipmunk eager to enjoy your smorgasbord, but my dilemma is much worse.

This is a devious, scheming creature, this wienie dog. A canine with no heart. And a deep seeded grudge against me the garden's master.

The next time I come out and see her feasting on a bed on MY mixed greens, I'm going right up to her and saying, BAD DOGGIE, in my firmest voice. Right after I seize the bottle of Raspberry Vinegarette from her little furry wienie dog paws.

Michael Stone