Three a.m. and the deep mountain silence is shattered by a mysterious ‘ding-dong, ding-dong, clunk, clunk, clatter, rattle, ding’!

So unexpectedly startling was the ‘interesting’ noise that, for what felt like eternity but was probably just a minute, the three dogs froze; standing silent, ears alert, eyes wide in wonder, noses twitching as they tried to get a scent and the hair down the centre of their backs literally standing on end. Then, knowing that they had a job to do, they added to the noise, barking in wild excitement and ferocious enthusiasm.

Out into the dark of the night we rushed, myself brandishing a shotgun, the dogs game for anything, to figure out what on earth was going on over the garden wall where, by the sound of it, the action was.

Slowly now, this had to be approached with caution as there could be just about anything going on, we slithered to the wall. I, having longer legs by far, was the only one who could peer over to get a bird’s eye view, along with an earful, of what was and is, when I think about it, absolutely ludicrous in the extreme!

Three idiots — who, what and where they came from is still unknown — were attempting to steal my neighbour’s monstrous buffalo which, by the way, is the bane of my life; and in true Laurel and Hardy style, the idiots were bungling the job!

They had, with foresight, come prepared, arming themselves with two large sheets of corrugated iron roofing material and a spanking brand new buffalo halter, complete with a ding-dong bell which is where I break off to giggle yet again.

Having broken open the padlock on the buffalo shed door, they took the time to remove the buffalo’s rather grimy halter, this also had a bell on it, and replace it with the brightly coloured new one with its larger, shiny, new bell. They then tried to lead the buffalo out of its small shed, which took time and made noise, and were in the ridiculous process of trying to force the animal to walk down the corrugated iron sheets that they had laid over the short, steep drop from the shed to the apology for a road just a few feet below.

Anyone with any sense would have, to put it bluntly and to consider the theft from a thief’s point of view, taken the bell off the buffalo’s existing halter and then quietly walked it through the adjacent, mud floored, gently sloping yard and garden area. From there, walking fast but silently, they would  reach the road where their vehicle had been parked, tailgate down in loading readiness, loaded up, using the corrugated sheets if necessary, and driven away as fast as they possibly could. But no, here they were, going ding-dong, ding-dong, clunk, clunk, rattle, ding!

Needless to say, my neighbours, I call the elders Olive Oyl and Popeye and their offspring by various, mostly unprintable, names, on realising that they were being raided, rushed out of their home brandishing huge sticks and one rather mean looking axe, yelling like devils from hell as they moved in to attack the would-be thieves. Caught red handed, the thieves swore loudly, threatened to shoot with, luckily, non-existent guns, the commotion frightening the buffalo which bellowed in ear-splitting frenzy. Ouch!

Within seconds the small, scattered, mountain community had sprung into action. Men and women raced to the scene, brandishing sticks and one large lady arrived waving an equally large tava over her head and all set about beating up the now surrounded and panic stricken trio.

No one is quite sure how but, unfortunately, the thieves managed to make a break for it, did a world record breaking sprint along the road, leapt into the waiting getaway vehicle and were gone, never, one hopes, to be seen again….ding-dong, ding-dong, ding!