Fanny was enjoying quail egg soup this afternoon in the drawing room when there was a deafening, almighty crash. The west window completely shattered inwards and a gingery-red flash of some animal leapt into the room. Before I could scream in horror, in hot pursuit of the animal were Brenda, my Doberman Pinscher, and Lady Bossity, a boisterous, mad Springer Spaniel bitch from across the village.
For my own safety, I jumped on top of the table and from up there caught sight of a 5-ft long fox jumping over the silver service and just missing my Ormolu clock.
Both dogs had gone mad: the fox wasted no time in mounting the Louis Quatorze dresser, knocking over and smashing into a thousand pieces a Ming vase, before leaping onto the piano, leaving deep scratches.
Ten seconds later, after a blinding flash of red fur, followed by Brenda's slavering lips and Lady Bossity's high-pitched growl, there was another almighty crash as all three animals jumped straight through the east window and disappeared into the grounds.
It was sometime later that I 'came round' (I usually revive myself not with smelling salts, but a good snort from a bottle of Poppers) to find Lady Bossity, the mad Springer Spaniel, lording it up on my once pure-white carpet (it originally cost over £55,000). What had become of the fox or Brenda the Doberman, I did not know.
However, the Spaniel was covered from head to tail in fox shit (I recall one of my grounds-men telling me that all dogs love to roll around in the stuff, as they think it a very expensive and pleasurable perfume) and my beautiful carpet was now more a shade of chocolate surprise than truffle-white.
Tip-toeing in horror towards the door, I was on the cusp of escaping, but for the harrowing creak of a floorboard. At that moment, the filthy Spaniel startled from her reverie, saw me and made a running jump into my arms.
For my own safety, I jumped on top of the table and from up there caught sight of a 5-ft long fox jumping over the silver service and just missing my Ormolu clock.
Both dogs had gone mad: the fox wasted no time in mounting the Louis Quatorze dresser, knocking over and smashing into a thousand pieces a Ming vase, before leaping onto the piano, leaving deep scratches.
Ten seconds later, after a blinding flash of red fur, followed by Brenda's slavering lips and Lady Bossity's high-pitched growl, there was another almighty crash as all three animals jumped straight through the east window and disappeared into the grounds.
It was sometime later that I 'came round' (I usually revive myself not with smelling salts, but a good snort from a bottle of Poppers) to find Lady Bossity, the mad Springer Spaniel, lording it up on my once pure-white carpet (it originally cost over £55,000). What had become of the fox or Brenda the Doberman, I did not know.
However, the Spaniel was covered from head to tail in fox shit (I recall one of my grounds-men telling me that all dogs love to roll around in the stuff, as they think it a very expensive and pleasurable perfume) and my beautiful carpet was now more a shade of chocolate surprise than truffle-white.
Tip-toeing in horror towards the door, I was on the cusp of escaping, but for the harrowing creak of a floorboard. At that moment, the filthy Spaniel startled from her reverie, saw me and made a running jump into my arms.
