Digging

I love to dig, I love to dig, I love to dig. Do you get it? I love to dig.

Mom has this one place that she said I could dig–it’s near this huge tree in my back yard. I can dig there and not get told I can’t dig there. Not like some of those other spots I tried. I think I’ve tried all over the place–I love to dig.

Mom tells me I can’t dig next to the fence. But one time I did–well, maybe more than one time. This particular time, she was outside the fence with that hose thing squirting water all over the place. I went out the gate (she forgot to latch it) and looked at her from the sidewalk. I thought I was pretty smart, but I guess I wasn’t suppose to do that. I was back inside the fence and Mom was still squirting water all over the place. BUT, there was this little place under the fence where that wire stuff they put there was sorta loose and I could just squeeze under. I bet it wasn’t a minute before I was out again. I really just wanted to be where Mom was……

Since I was out, I thought I could play “keep away” from Mom. She didn’t think it was fun–party pooper. I ran across the street (not the big scary one, just the one beside my house) to some guys’ house. They were outside and helped Mom with the keep away game. She won and I had to go home again. I really haven’t tried digging out again. Probably a good thing.

But I still love to dig. I guess I’ll just have to go back to the place they said was OK.