The Cottage Smallholder


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Snoozing with Min Pins

 

Dr Quito on my bed

Dr Quito on my bed

The Min Pins are not “tuck us in and we’ll sleep right through the night” dogs. They are miniature guards that protect us from rats and mice and stray broccoli. Yes you read that right. Last night Inca went hunting and caught a head of calabrese that somehow had become separated from the rest in the carrier bag hanging on the back door of the cottage kitchen.

I was alerted by an extra heavy thud as she landed on the bed, mouth clasping broc. Too sleepy to care I was lulled to sleep by the rasp of teeth on crisp broccoli. In the morning I discovered that she hadn’t been interested in the florets – yet another use for the humble stalk.

The Contessa is territorial with a capital T. Any bed that she sleeps in is her bed. We’ve had several disagreements about this as she has a tendency to snap and snarl if her beauty sleep is disturbed. And there’s also the question of The Contessa’s love hate relationship with Inca. If The Contessa ventures downstairs for a pee she often loses her nerve about jumping back on the bed. She stands in the doorway squeaking. She doesn’t give up if ignored – I timed her once. She squeaked from 4am to 7am. Min Pins have stamina that would challenge Sir Ranulph Fiennes.  I have discovered a new way to put an end to the squeaking banshee – the rustle of a packet of Rich Tea biscuits has her leaping onto the bed like an elegant gazelle.

Dr Quito is the perfect Min Pin companion hottie. Once ensconced he rarely moves. We sleep back to back as the girls bicker. Often I vow to have a Min Pin free zone at night but those soft bright eyes and unspoken promises snare me every time.


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12 Comments

  1. Having endured more than 20 dead rats brought in by Spike, one of our cats, I was pleasantly surprised when Lance the tubby ginger brought me home a freshly killed jam doughnut.

  2. Your Mins Pins are adorable. They always have a cut look on their face when you photograph them!

    It sounds like The Contessa and my cat Fleagle were separated at birth. If she goes downstairs for a wee and a mouth of food in the night, she comes back up and starts scratching the carpet by the door to the spare bedroom and mewing. Only if I call her name will she come flying into the bedroom and jump on the bed.

    And like The Contessa, she can scratch and whine for hours. We’ve learnt it’s just easier to call her and she jumps up onto the bed and then settles down. I haven’t slept right through since we got her four years ago.

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