Usually all is sweetness and light in the Beastly Beasts household; they have always got on well together, and apart from Jack who sometimes gets a bit grumpy in the evenings (he likes his bed after 9:30), hardly a cross word spoken. Indeed, when we have been out at various events people have commented, ne, marvelled, at how well behaved the Beastly Beasts are; there are even comments to that effect on BeastBlog.

So imagine my astonishment when last Sunday morning there was real trouble at mill.

Now, before I proceed with this tale, I should advise readers of a gentle and/or nervous disposition that there are descriptions of events and situations that do not make for pleasant reading or imagining of the scene. However, if you are made of stern stuff - read on.

Sunday moring after the makeover, and the Beastly Beasts begin to stir. As is their want, Monty, Jack and Maple head for the garden to do what beasts do first thing in the morning. Kai and Troy have cast iron bladders, and have no need to move until later - usually not until breakfast is served. As normal Monty runs up to the top of the garden, followed in quick succession by Maple. Jack by now is standing on three legs.

From the top of the garden there is a bit of a commotion; I assumed it was a pigeon being told in no uncertain terms whos garden this was. A glance towards the top of the garden where Monty and Maple were located soon dispelled this happy illusion. From behind the rosemary bush came two black greyhounds doing a fair imitation of Mohammed Ali and George Foreman. I rushed to the back door ....

A reminder of the earlier warning is warranted at this juncture, having reached the point at which you may wish to desist in the reading of this sorry tale.

It was Sunday morning, and the reason I only rushed as far as the back door was that I had nothing on my feet, or anywhere else for that matter (apologies if the image this conjures up proves to be too much, but you were warned - twice). So before doing a streak to intervene in the debacle, I yelled at them to stop it. Luckily for my modesty, and other parts of my anatomy, the result was that which I desired, and the pair of them trit-trotted down the garden side by side as though nothing had happend and butter wouldn't melt.

Were that that was the end of the story, but alas no. The fight, for that's what it was, had resulted in bites to Maple, one of which, while it wasn't gushing, refused to stop bleeding. Monty had got a couple of scratches, but nothing more serious. So, a Sunday trip to the vets; a £75 just for walking in trip to the vets. Don't you just love them? And their sense of timing? And then, 'coz that was the emergency vet, there's the trip to my vet on Monday.

It turned out that none of Maple wounds were deep, and even by Monday at the vet they had started healing quite nicely. She has a course of antibiotics to take, and is obviously a bit sorry for herself.

What started the fight and why? I don't know. Of course the question has been; was this a one off, or was it the start of an ongoing issue? I think (I hope!!) that the attitude of both of them means it's the former; they quite happily stand next to each other wagging when food is being prepared, and lie close to each other in the evenings. In the garden, Maple has definitely decided to back down, and let Monty get on with whatever it is he does. So my suspision is that it all started 'coz one surprised the other, and that there is not a fundamental issue between them. I'll let you know what happens.