all those chickens. . . .

I fear that all my little chickens may be coming home to roost.

I wrote about the little ethical dilemma of what to do about the overlap of the last month or two of our rental agreement and the puppy's arrival which I (like the ethical coward I hate to admit I appear to be) sought to avoid by (1) consoling myself that I'd be on full-time puppy duty, so "how much damage could he cause?", (2) pointing out that, legally, the landlord will be getting her full recourse against us in any event, insofar as we're leaving anyway, and we'll pay for any damage [but see number 1, above], and (3) by assuming that no one of contractual relevance will ever be the wiser about the interloping puppy, so long as the neighbors don't feel compelled to track down the aging homeowner and upset her in her retirement living quarters.

But no.

With all the rain, it seems the skylight in the studio is going. Last night's torrential rains left a torrential mess. I'm thinking major roof repair, which means that the rental agent is going to be underfoot.

sigh.

So much for trying to keep the puppy under wraps. First off, he has to be going out every couple of hours, while he learns potty manners. Second, he's going to be growing by leaps and bounds, so it won't be easy to keep him out of sight. Third, I imagine he's going to bark at strange noises and hammering on the roof. . . .

OK. Plan B.

Which is?

Well. . . . I imagine I'm going to have to come clean on this one. Saved by the roof, eh? And all those chickens roosting up there. . . .

Meanwhile, the name search continues.