Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
After the drought and then Britain's damp spring comes the dreaded plague of slugs ready to wreak havoc in our gardens. More a thorny issue than a slimy one! It reminds me of the time my human put out a tub of ‘Bitter Beer’ as a slug trap. Whilst ferreting around in the flower bed I came across this concoction and decided to try it. I have to say it was rather nice and being a bit thirsty I lapped up the whole lot. After a little light gardening, I realised that my coordination was somewhat impaired and even my barks were slurred. Tried to go indoors but legs went in all directions and the furniture kept bumping into me. Then every time I tried to jump up onto the sofa some invisible hand moved it, sending me crashing to the floor. All this activity started to make me queasy and suddenly I was overcome with the urge to be sick and desperately looked around for a suitable receptacle. Enough said, feeling somewhat better decided to go sleep on the floor by the sofa. The shoes went in the bin, I had to be carried to the vet, the bill was eye watering and I had the best night sleep ever. The slug tub was never seen again.