Words & Photo Cynthia Philp
Gardeners know that the first step is to start out with a good plan: to carefully lay out where the garden beds will be, to establish pathways and appropriate fencing. There are courses to take on plant groupings and proper pruning techniques. I am reaching the last stages of establishing a calming garden in my back yard, and I love my sanctuary from the mayhem of life. A beautiful garden brings me joy.
Dogs also bring me joy. So it was a happy day when we brought home Cookie, a 12-month-old rescue, and let her experience her first freedom in our secure back yard.
We didn’t anticipate her exuberance – instant zoomies over the deck, around the shed and through the garden. Forget the pathways; hairpin turns on a damp lawn turned up clumps of sod. Oregano, sedum and fuchsia were trampled that day, but we watched with indulgence: it was fitting that her first taste of home would be worth celebrating.
We learned that her border collie markings are more than fur deep. She tracks everything that moves – giving our yard the feeling of a maximum-security prison. Good dog, I thought: rabbits will soon learn this is a no-go zone. So far, her surveillance has only earned the disdain of a chubby robin who sits just out of reach.
Cookie’s curious patrol takes her into, and through, things we hadn’t paid much attention to previously: compost bins, dodgy gates, gaps in the fence behind the shed and interesting smells under the deck. All required very hasty landscaping decisions by us – most aren’t elegant, but they do the job.
She’s had a head start on pruning day. My rosemary, blueberry shrub and spruce tree are now trimmed back. I’m not worried that she’ll chew on a poisonous leaf or plant in the yard – honestly, I’m more concerned she’ll consume a joint of marijuana on our leashed walks by the beach. (Why don’t the cannabis companies put out proper disposal PSAs?)
She bursts through the door in a streak of black-and-white fur. I get it. I too, am impatient and sometimes forget to wipe my paws, er, feet when I rush into the kitchen for a drink of water. At first, a quick wipe of her paws with a handy towel did the trick, but it didn’t take long before the clotted mud between her toes had me concerned enough to investigate.
Bundling up against the rain, I peered into the garden beds, surprised and then alarmed at the number of holes dug randomly throughout. Sprouted bulbs lay exposed; fresh dirt covered a blooming hellebore.
This required careful strategizing. Bulbs replaced and covered with a scrap of chicken wire has done the trick in some places, but I can’t cover the entire garden in wire. My solution had to be more creative.
I’ve decided to embrace the holes. After all, I love rescuing plants from gardens that are about to be bulldozed, or transplants from friends. Cookie has gotten a head start on this year’s gardening season by pre-digging the holes for me.
It turns out that neither of us follow the gardening master plan I started out with, but this is so much better. Maybe I didn’t know it then, but my cheeky rescue dog living her best life among my beautiful rescued plants was my garden’s master plan all along.
