I sat up way past my bedtime last night to watch the Manchester United match which means I’m an extra sleepy Stephen this morning. But at least they won. By the time I was nodding off, however, it was nearing midnight. It was also a very muggy night which made drifting off to sleep even more difficult. I wasn’t looking forward to the following morning’s alarm. Getting back into the swing of full time employment has been a struggle.
Imagine my despair, therefore, when I was rudely awakened by the sound of our border terrier, Charlie, barking like a lunatic downstairs. I stumbled out of bed, staggered down the stairs, and let him out into the back yard thinking he needed to go to the toilet. Next thing, though, I heard an almighty scuffle with our Charles barking and growling like a demented Hound of the Baskervilles. What on earth was going on?
I ventured outside to find him pawing excitedly at a small, prickly ball. A hedgehog, no less, had ventured into our garden and now taken up a defensive pose as Charlie investigated in a frenzy. I didn’t cut a very dignified sight in my pyjamas as I hauled him by the scruff of the neck back into the kitchen. It took much cajoling and a few harsh words to get him back into his cage and settled down again. Hedgehog 1 Charlie 0.
This morning I checked outside to discover that Mr. H was gone, having lived to fight another day. Sometimes all you can do in life is curl up into a ball when under attack and hope for the best. To try and fight back could end in disaster. You just have to take it on the chin and pray you make it through to the other side in one piece. We’ve all had our hedgehog moments in life. It’s part of the experience. That, and the occasional sleepless night.