The garden was much as Herman expected it, except for the corpse in the middle of his bed of nasturtiums and the loose dirt thrown around which indicated it had not gone easily into its present state of death.  Thankfully, the body was fresh instead of rotten with maggots and other such untidy creatures, but it still needed a proper disposal.  For a moment, Herman considered just digging a hole right there to provide his flowers a little extra nutrients, but Beauregard would just use the smell of decay as an excuse to excavate, and then flowers would fly everywhere again.

Howard decided not to consider source of the problem in order to give his anger a little time to cool off.  Instead, he slipped the hoe under the body of the dead squirrel and held it up with a disapproving look of his own.  Once the body had been disposed of into the trash can, he considered calling over the fence to Eugene, but decided against it.  His ‘assistance’ cleaning up the mess would have only killed more innocent flowers and raised Howard’s stress level into a second heart attack.  Gardening was supposed to be relaxing.  Calming.  Peaceful.  [i]Not[/i] cleaning up after a hellhound disguised as a little terrier.

Several times over the last few months, Howard had been tempted to do something… rash.  After all, a hoe was just a stick with a sharp blade on it, and Beauregard was an infernal menace from the deepest depths of Hell.  Certainly, whatever few squirrels remained in the neighborhood would rejoice, and the mailman would quit walking his route while holding a can of pepper spray in one hand.  His neighbor’s yard was about as useful in keeping Beau restrained as some prison in a superhero comic book, because at [i]least[/i] once a week the little terrorizing terrier broke out to spread doggie vengeance upon the nighttime neighborhood.

It made it more difficult to hoe the dirt back where it belonged and put whatever flowers he could rescue back into their places, since in three nights, it would happen all over again.  One night for the dog to spend on the leash in the yard while whining loud enough to keep all the neighbors up, one night to be released and run around the yard, yapping loud enough to wake the dead, and the next night…

Once the last wounded flower was put back and Howard got into the car to pick up replacements, he made a pledge.  Next time it would be different, and the last time.  All he needed was a few extra purchases.

[hr]

“Howdy, neighbor.”  The slender form of Eugene draped over the back fence again, but this time he had a nervous expression much like a rat.  “You know, I think Beauregard may have gotten out last night.”

Howard made as if he had not heard, but continued to move dirt around his flowerbed.

“You… ah… haven’t seen him around, have you?”

This time, Howard nodded, but kept moving dirt around the larger pile in his garden.

“What’s that?” asked Eugene with a sudden panicked look at the pile fresh earth, about the size of an annoying dog.

“The flowers were doing poorly,” said Howard.  “So I got them some fertilizer.”

“You… How could you…” spluttered Eugene as he ran toward his house.  “I’ll call the police!”

Howard waited until the slamming of the back door before he propped the hoe up against the fence.  It only took a few steps to reach behind the rhododendron bush and lift the gate on the live trap so the terroristic terrier could waddle his way back through the garden and vanish through the hole he had dug last night.  There was enough tuna in his oversized doggie gut to hold him for a while, so after pushing some dirt into the hole and shoving a rock over the escape tunnel, Howard returned to his gardening.

After all, the cow manure he had purchased for his flowers was not going to work its way into the flower bed all by itself.  And maybe [i]this[/i] time, they could grow.