Guilty Dog

Thank you for not killing me, Grandma.

Digging in dry sand is fun, but digging in wet sand is even funner. Dudley loves to dig. Dudley currently has more than one excavation project in the works - he's determined to kill one of my hibiscus by excavating the entire root system, and he is very concerned that the contractor didn't pour the patio footers properly, so he's digging to check them. We had a smattering of a rainstorm the other day (yay) and Dudley decided that the post rainstorm wet sand would facilitate the inspection of the patio footers. And that is how I happened to catch him chest deep in a hole, with sand coating all four legs.

I yelled - I'm sorry, but I'm trying to get the house ready to sell and this little bastard (and I know for a fact his parents were NOT married) is working just as hard to make the backyard look like a borrow pit. So I yelled, and I believe insults about his parentage were hurled. So Dudley ran past me into the house. Coated in sand, to his chest. And proceeded to make a victory lap through every room, over every piece of furniture, including my bed, the loveseat, the couch end-to-end, wrapping it up on his favorite big chair, on the red velvet pillows. The more I yelled, the more exciting this was for him. After a while he finally got the idea that I wasn't cheering him on, and he became a very sorry dog indeed - ears flattened to his head, eyes filled with guilt and sorrow. He spent the rest of the evening sucking up to me.

All I can say is thank GOD the dirt here is nothing but sand, after it dries it vacuums off. So I didn't have to kill him. Though he really needed killin'.