Read by Matilda Longbottom

“How?” I exclaimed, surveying the aftermath as I opened my garden gate. Tomatillos split in half, flowers broken, and the notorious dog of destruction was mysteriously absent.

Rosie, a brown mutt with an ambiguous origin, became a part of our family six scorching Memphis summers ago. Originating from a friend’s farm and known for her chicken-chasing escapades, Rosie found a new home with us, proving incompatible with smaller animals but fitting in perfectly with our kids and Zeb, our older dog.

Rosie, settling in late July, considered the garden her domain. Discovering a spot to dig under the fence, she ventured into the neighbors’ yards. Realizing the need for a protective barrier, we installed a garden fence to safeguard both future vegetables and neighboring chipmunks.

The first fence, a small metal one with a gate, aimed to keep toddlers and dogs away from the vegetable rows. I planted and tended, always cautious to secure the gate. However, Rosie’s determined spirit led her to breach the gate with her blocky head, necessitating a sturdier fence.

The following year brought another fence—post holes, 4x4s in concrete, boards, and a heavy-duty gate. As our garden fences grew more elaborate, my vegetable plot became more systematic. Yet, the illusion of a canine-free haven shattered when I discovered split tomatillos and Rosie staring from the neighbor’s side.

My husband caught her red-pawed, effortlessly clearing the three-and-a-half-foot fence. In desperation, we added extensions and lattice, creating a fence tall enough to deter even deer.

Finally, we outsmarted the dog of destruction. An entire growing season passed without her breaching the defenses. However, unintended consequences emerged – a sanctuary where our vigilant guardian couldn’t harass the squirrels had been created. My plants thrived, but the Summer yielded not a single tomato for our family.

In the end, Rosie’s antics were no match for the impenetrable fortress we built to protect our garden. Yet, the unexpected consequence was a peaceful haven for the neighborhood squirrels, leaving us with a bountiful garden but a tomato-less Summer. 

Next year’s garden plan will definitely reacquaint Rosie with the neighborhood squirrel population.