Olga the Savage Watchdog

Last night Dave and I watched "All the President's Men" -- choosing it for my library bookshelf made me want to see the movie again, and I just finished a book about Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers that neatly segued into the saga of Watergate. I suppose I really should read ATPM. Maybe this summer.

Anyway, as we watched, a fox ambled past our back door in the darkness, only inches from the glass. Olga didn't stir.

"Olga, you're fired," Dave said to her snoring self.

She's also proving not very adept at keeping squirrels away. Yesterday something -- almost certainly an écureuil -- knocked a pot of bulbs off our garden table, right outside the back door. The pot is still out there, smashed to pieces on the patio. The squirrels have been really destructive this spring, also digging up several of our plants. Little bastards!

We bought some new food for the squirrel feeder, and I'm going to put it out in the hopes that it pacifies them. Of course, it may just attract more. Who knows?

Some good news on the plant front: my purple heart cutting, which I had feared was dying, has rebounded and is growing quite happily. My Mom reacted with skepticism to my report in January that it was wilting away -- "I thought you couldn't kill those things!" -- and ultimately she was right.

(Top photo: An apparently nameless hotel in Cricklewood, Northwest London.)