While I was working on the compost pile yesterday, I scraped off the top layers of shredded paper and garden greens, revealing an underneath layer of well-rotted kitchen scraps.
When I looked toward the pile from the other side of the garden, Penny was nearby, licking her lips, and I reckon there was a ring of black around her mouth, though I couldn't be sure from that distance. If she'd been a human, she'd have been whistling unconcernedly and glancing aside innocently. As it was, she stood her ground, her tail at mid height, enduring my suspicious stare.
We faced each other for minutes rather than seconds, she the picture of nonchalance, until she decided I wasn't going to move. She headed inside the house and didn't come out again.
I've put a barrier in front of the compost, even though the 'tastiest' bits are now safely reburied under boring mulched branches and leaves and such like.
She wouldn't have been near the compost today, anyway, because she was with me at Yarra Glen, having a wonderfully relaxing and health-enhancing Bowen therapy from Deb.