Vacation!

It's that time of year again!
 VACATION!!!!

Dig, Dig, Digging No More

I dig in the snow.

I dig in the doggy pool.

I dig on the carpet.

I dig in the side garden.

I dig in the vegetable garden.

I dig by the cherry tree.

I dig under the forsythia bush (my favorite).

My love of digging has always been a bit of a sore spot between me and my family; a sore spot with some definite mixed signals mixed in.  They have no issue with me digging in the doggy pool and they actually build (and rebuild) snow mountains for me each winter.  But the concept of me digging on the carpet or in the garden is seriously frowned upon.

And oh, has my family tried to discourage my digging in inappropriate places over the years.  They've turned the vegetable garden into a "Land of No" with the assistance of a metal portable fence.  They've blocked my favorite digging spots with flower pots (which I run off with), buckets, garbage can covers, and broken pieces of fence.  They've blocked my access to my favorite carpeted areas with books and chairs.  They've cut back the forsythia to make my digging area less private.  And, as I mentioned in a recent post, they've developed a sixth sense when it comes to reading my mind and can therefore head me off with a stern "no" when I've merely look at a patch of dirt.

Yesterday, however, Ma took an epic maneuver in the ongoing battle between my digging and the welfare of her garden.  First, she filled in my latest hole under the forsythia bush.  Then, she planted four cement pavers right in the middle of that prime digging real estate.

 
Touché, Ma; well played.  But don't think for a minute that this war is over.  I'll come up with a way of reclaiming my favorite digging spot!

It's Raining Squirrels!

Curse you, squirrel!

I'm not a huge fan of squirrels or their tail shaking, tree hopping, trespassing ways.  I mean, sure, they are better than those stupid little bunnies that so brazenly hop around my backyard and take cover in the vegetable garden just out of my reach.  But not by much.  In fact, I think the only good thing I can say about squirrels is that they deposit their half-eaten peaches (stolen from the next-door neighbor's peach tree) in my yard for me to either eat or trade in for a cookie.  Otherwise, they are just trespassers who have the audacity to chatter at me angrily when I stand at the base of the tree I've chased them up barking at them to never set foot in my backyard again.

And that's where my interaction normally ends; the squirrel eventually gets tired of chattering at me and decides to climb further up the tree and out of my sight.  The discussion is over.  Or is it?

Last week, Pa and I were hanging out in the backyard.  Pa was supervising my activities and I was trying to think of ways to distract Pa long enough to scurry over to the forsythia bush and "dig, dig, dig" at my favorite digging spot.  All of a sudden, however, I was distracted from my scheming by a rustling in the giant oak tree above me.  I looked up just in time to see a dark brown furry blob hurtle to the ground and land with a sickening "thud" inches in front of me.

It was a full-grown squirrel.

Now, one might think that falling from atop of a very tall oak tree and landing with a sickening "thud" might turn a living squirrel into an ex-squirrel.  Not so (or at least no one ever told that to this particular squirrel).  Immediately upon hitting the ground, the squirrel sprang back up, ran directly toward me, and scooted through my legs--front and back.

Needless to say, I was surprised by this entire event (as I believe anyone would be).  I was so surprised, that I didn't even notice that after the squirrel had skirted under me it had hotfooted up the cherry tree a few feet away.  Confused, I spent the next few minutes trying to track down the squirrel and did so by walking around backward with my head down between my front paws trying to see where the squirrel went and if it were still there.

Sadly, I was not alone as I did this little dance.  Pa witnessed the entire event (my less than finest hours always seem to be witnessed). 

July Fourth Greetings

Happy Fourth of July!