Tammy was a loveable placid Alsatian with smooth pitch black fur ever eager to please one. Her affectionate nature required one to pat her unlike her “sibling” who was more standoffish & aloof.

Her nemesis was an older Alsatian but instead of being of the German variety, Kohla was a Belgian Shepherd. Similar to their German brethren but with curly black fur, they displayed most of the characteristics of their GSD neighbours.

Apart from similarity in appearance, their natures & temperaments were vastly divergent. Whereas Kohla was domineering & fearless, Tammy was timid & reclusive, hiding away from strange noises. Whenever load bangs or noises were made, she would cower under a bed or in a corner. Her especial bête noir was firecrackers or squibs as the Poms used to call them centuries ago, hence the remnant in the English language being the “damp squib.”

Firecrackers terrified her. On hearing the first explosion she would dash inside. Woe betide the McCleland household if her access was barred by closed doors or windows. Without a warning, the crash of breaking windows or doors would be heard as the animal in sheer panic & distress entered the house by creating her own entrance on the fly so to speak. Niceties such as Municipal Approval for rearranging the house were neglected in the process.

As the dogs usually slept outside, the sight of the wagging tail inside the house meant that somehow she had inveigled herself inside. On most occasions, it was merely the result of delinquent children who had left one of the doors or windows open. If this was not the case, it meant that in her haste to come indoors, some damage has been done to the house in attempting to do so. Episodes of broken windows & smashed doors occurred thankfully infrequently.

The reason for her “sister” being called Kohla arose due to my half-German wife wanting to have a German name for her new dog. Her father, Jens, who lived in Hamburg during WW2, once had a German shepherd dog called Wolf. As no suitable German name sprang to mind & as somebody had suggested a name such as Cooler, I suggested a corruption of kohl, or cabbage in German, & so it became Kohla. This seemed to satisfy the honour & everybody was ecstatic. However to my friends, this name was indicative of two things, firstly that I must know a smattering of German, which I did not, & secondly that I knew nothing of the naming of dogs, but the name stuck.

Tammy

Being mid-December I should have been on holiday but for my unremembered reason – no doubt important at the time – I was still working on the 21^st December that year. However I had managed to organise leave between Christmas & New Year.

At 16:30, the daytime heat was slowly dissipating but the temperature was nevertheless still sizzling in the mid-twenties. The last streaks of light from the westward bound sun only lit the tops of the clouds; a magical summer sunset. In the languid summer evening, my eyes pored over the evening newspaper while my right hand periodically subconsciously picked up an ice cold Savanna from the side table & poured some down my throat. This was going to be a long lazy sunset.

Suddenly the summer idyll was shattered by the unexpected explosion of a fire cracker in an adjacent property. Flocks of hadeda Ibis shrieked as they rose in fright from the front lawn furiously beating their wings as they attempted to escape. I silently cursed my inconsiderate neighbours & waited for the tranquillity to return.

At that precise moment, Tammy races past me to the bedroom terrified out of its wits. Being only two centimetres from the floor, she is unable to scramble underneath that bed so instead she crawls away terrified into the corner next to the curtains.

Surmising that the kids had left the door open again, I curse again but more volubly this time as I take another sip of Savanna. Not wanting to accidently starting an inter-neighbour war by surreptitiously lobbing some overripe avos from our overgrown tree into their yard, I keep on reading.

Me with Kohla, Tammy’s bete noir

After some time without hearing another explosion, it was time to throw the dog outside before she became too comfortable & took advantage of my generosity. I found it strange that I had to open the front door to let the dog out but not wanting to be too distracted from the newspaper, I purposely blamed Murphy instead. Don’t let the facts staring one in the face from making one actually go & check what is wrong. Instead I blamed the kids again & I might admit under extreme torture that I did curse using some profanities starting with an F followed by “Why don’t you close the door after you open it? Do you live in a stable?” It might have been a tad grumpy tone as well.

Half irritated by this situation, I was further annoyed that the sun had decided without my permission to set in the interim & that Tammy had knocked over my half-finished Savanna with her swishing tail as I led her outside. Once more I settled down on the couch hoping to finish the last story.

It was not to be. There was Tammy, happy as a lark, wagging her tail overjoyed at being allowed back inside again snuggling my leg.

In anger I stood up. Instead of receiving a welcoming pat, Tammy received a reprimand.

“Who the F….. let you in NOW!!!”

Grabbing her collar, I stormed with her in tow to the front door. Tammy was downhearted at being castigated when all that she expected was some TLC & a pat. I would have none of this. With a stony heart & the renegade dog by the collar, I dragged her half-chocking to the hallway.

“It must be the kids again”, I shouted rhetorically but the door was closed.

Again!

In a slightly gruffer & sterner tone, I might have included 2 F’s in my expletives this time but most probably more. I was not going to play the game commencing with You-Let-The-Dog-In and by my responding with I-Will-Let-The-Dog-Out as I found it puerile & childish. Not least of which it was pointless.

But I had not checked the back door.

“Stupid!” I lamented, chiding myself for my rank stupidity. It had to be the back door that the kids seldom used which was standing ajar. Without switching on the kitchen light, I dashed through the gloom as the sun had set whilst playing this stupid game unsolicited. In the dim light, I sensed that something was wrong but could not figure it out. The backdoor was a stable door but the bottom half which was seldom opened separately appeared to be different but in the gloom but I was unable to make out what it was.

I switched the light on & in the bright light, all was revealed. The bottom half of the door was a series of planks with gaping holes in between them. Without following the internationally recognised system of apportioning the responsibilities for obtaining justice into police, prosecutors & courts, I usurped all their roles & without any evidence whatsoever, I apportioned all the blame unilaterally on Tammy who was so glad to see me again for the umpteenth time that evening as she playfully attempted to snuggle up to me yet again.

The sentence: to be shot at dawn by firing squad but for now there were more pressing matters, how to replace my back door.

Episodes of The Case of the Missing Back Door

Part 1:

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 1 of 3: A terrified dog makes a grand entrance

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 1 of 3: A terrified dog makes a grand entrance

Part 2:

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 2 of 3: Specialist assistance is acquired

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 2 of 3: Specialist Assistance is Acquired

Part 3:

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 3 of 3: Finally its in – well maybe

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 3 of 3: Finally its in – well maybe