or Right, I’m Concreting Over the Lot

As Jane Austen wrote in her early draft of Lurch and Lurchability, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a gardener in possession of a good longdog, must be in want of his wits.”

Sadly, Ms Austen was later converted to spaniels by an over-amorous curate from Tiverton, and wrote no more on the subject of the lurcher or the longdog. She didn’t say much more about gardening either. So it falls to greydogtales to expose the sordid truth about trying have a lurcher and a garden at the same time. This third section of Lurchers for Beginners is drawn from painful experience, dear listeners, and therefore not a Laughing Matter.

The typical lurcher is a long-legged, light-footed beast, able to dance nimbly between two of the feathers on an angel’s wings and turn on a pinhead. Clearly the ideal companion for the keen gardener. Oh dear. Only we will tell you the truth…

Some of you, no doubt, will have that gentle creature who trots straight down the garden path, has an inconspicuous pee and returns to sit quietly at your feet. We at greydogtales have not yet met this sub-species. Many lurchers consider the garden to be a place for army manoeuvres and major earth-moving projects. For those of you who are in doubt, let us examine some of the main components of a garden – and their fate…

THE LAWN

Also know as the Main Runway. It is used for take-off attempts, such as squirrel catching, fence jumping and flying after the neighbour’s cat. It also makes a nice arena for chasey-chasey and bitey-face, which are sadly not yet Olympic sports. Typically the suburban dog lawn consists of three parts:

• A trodden wasteland of bare earth. This is a cracked, dry dust-bowl in Summer, and a lethal mud-slide in Winter.
• A stretch of sad, desperate grass which has gone brown or yellow due to frequent use as a toilet, even though you spent all year watering it straight after the dogs, or trying tomato ketchup and so on in their diet.
• A tiny bit of surviving green grass, slightly smaller than a garden chair, which will be noticed by your lurchers any day now.

There are solutions, of course:

• Re-turf (and/or re-seed) the lawn twice a year until you get bored – or run out of money.
• Cover everything with Astroturf. Don’t stop at the garden, put it all through the house as well. It may well last longer than your carpets.
• Abandon all your lawn-related dreams and convert the mower into a lurcher-pulled sled for those trips to the local shops.

FLOWER BEDS

Surprisingly, you can have flower-beds. Sometimes. These should be placed after you find out where the main runways lie, and compensate for cat entry-points, where neighbours’ children poke grubby faces through the hedge etc. Plants that are particularly suitable for lurcher flowerbeds include:

• Lichen and algae
• That indestructible grass you find on dunes at the seaside
• Mature holly bushes

A swathe of prairie-style planting may seem durable and appealing. Do note that any particularly expensive fancy grasses will be mysteriously chosen as prime fodder, despite there being common grass all around.

You can also plant pretty, delicate flowers, but don’t come crying to me.

Tubs and planters are an excellent alternative, unless you have a male dog like Django, who likes to wander round the patio peeing on everything in a pot to make sure it’s his. What remains is a display of patio plants which are all strangely brown down one side.

Raised beds make excellent sunbathing stations for the lurcher who likes a tan. They are also prone to being undermined by urgent digging activities. Always make your raised bed foundations from deep, industrial-strength concrete or pure granite bedrock to avoid this problem.

WATER FEATURES

Water-features are popular. They are useful for drinking from when they’ve knocked the bowl in the house over and soaked the carpet. The larger ones, such as ponds, are ideal for i) accidental baths (damn, missed that cat) and ii) standing in to cool down sore or over-heated paws. This usually involves destroying all your hard work arranging marginals, shallow-ledge plants and water-lilies in tasteful perfection. A passing hippopotamus would do less damage.

Both i) and ii) have an added attraction. They allow the lurcher to come back inside and adorn the entire house with wet and muddy footprints, duckweed, and that delicate pond-plant you paid too much for at the garden centre.

Note that ponds are a Questionable Thing. greydogtales is always on the alert for risks, as we have enough already. Some authorities (and some normal people) consider that pond water, especially if it is still and laden with muck/bacteria, is not a Good Idea. A clean, circulating-water pond is probably safer. Note also that certain lurchers will automatically head for the most disgusting, toxic water-source they can find anyway…

TREES

Trees are simply Satan’s Highway, used by the squirrel army to avoid direct combat, hide their ill-gotten supplies and generally taunt the innocent lurcher (see earlier post Lurcher v Squirrel: The Battle of Dork’s Drift). They are also an occasional transport route for cats, who are surprisingly close allies of the squirrels when it comes to lurcher abuse. Trees have only two other purposes:

1. To be peed on
2. To be run into

The latter may only apply to our longdog Django, who is skilled at looking over his shoulder whilst running and immediately crashing into various tree-shaped obstacles.

BOUNDARIES

High, thick conifer hedges re-inforced with heavy-grade green mesh work very well. As do eight foot high concrete walls. The lurcher is a peculiar animal. Some will leap six foot, others will show no interest whatsoever. They will not tell you which one they are, which is annoying.

If in doubt, put sturdy fencing panels everywhere. Everywhere. It’s even useful at the top and bottom of the stairs, around your bed and in front of the fridge.

If in further doubt, put smooth-topped trellis on top of everything. Note: Never put anything pointy on top of boundaries – this will produce either vet bills or a collapsed fence. Or both.

As lurchers may well come in from the garden hungry and investigate the kitchen, it might be wise to put more trellis around the stove top and the work surfaces, as well. After all, they didn’t pay for that steak.

It has occasionally been fashionable to create a stylish sunken garden. Frankly, this is what you usually get if you have too many lurchers. Why pay a landscape gardener?

IN CONCLUSION

There is no conclusion. The war between lurchers and gardeners is an endless struggle. The only victor is that nice, smiling woman who runs the nearest garden centre, and who always seems so very pleased to see you again…

Next time:  Probably something weird and horrible to balance the books…