A Dinner Gong At A Bulimics' Convention

I haven't gone to work today.
Winnie needed the vets.
Work was understanding and I owe them a day
She' s ok, weak with enteritis and old age
She's very still today and very lethargic
These animals will be the death of me !

That phrase haunts me daily

I was drinking my bucket of coffee at the kitchen table when there came an unholy and very angry howling from the garden
The Ginger Bastard was back!
Now for months a large ginger Tomcat has been tormenting Albert
Most of their interactions have been confined to bitch staring each other out along the perimeter of each other's territories, but occasionally the ginger Bastard , forgets the rules and ventures across the building site behind the cottage with a noticeable swagger , and enters my garden with a narrowing of his eyes.
He is younger and bigger than Albert
And unlike him, has four fully functioning legs.
Today Albert caught him in the garden and a cat fight began
It started suddenly and loudly with both cats yowling at the top of their voices
And to one Welsh terrier and one inexperienced bulldog bitch
The noise was as galvanising as a dinner gong at a bulimics' convention
The  girls thundered out of the cottage like rats up a drainpipe.

The gate into the garden proper stopped Mary short but being a little bundle of pure bulldog muscle Dorothy sailed over it with a single bound. Within a second she had barrelled into the  Tom like an American footballer and the Ginger Bastard bounced over the kitchen wall as if he was made of rubber.
Albert ran for the safety of the kitchen, wide eyed and ruffled .

I had to go after Dorothy and eventually found her grinning wildly and proud in old Trevor's miniature orchard
All for one and one for all is the motto of all dogs,
they love a good chase and an underdog to watch out for

Mary checking on Albert after the incident