Pirate Puppy

In a previous post, I promised to share more stories about Forest’s first weekend at the cabin. So here’s a story about the puppy digging for what he considered to be buried treasure.

To recap, Nick’s family owns a house in Iowa by Twin Lakes. We usually just refer to it as the “cabin.” The cabin has a sandlot that separates the driveway from the lake. Nick, his brother and cousins used to play in the sand when they were kids, but now it’s used mainly as a litter box for the neighborhood dogs (it’s also used twice a year as a ramp for putting in and taking out the dock, but that barely counts).

During Forest’s first cabin weekend, we tried to play in the yard a lot to minimize his chances of an accident inside the cabin. Forest ran across the sandlot a couple of times before he finally paused, examined the sand, and then looked up at me like “Huh, this isn’t grass.” Then Forest developed a brief case of OCD and became fixated on one little corner of the sandlot. I don’t know what was buried there, but it must have smelled like bacon wrapped around dog doodie because Forest was determined to dig his first hole.

Of course, I was a tad paranoid about what he might find in his hole. I had cleaned the yard the day before and bagged a decapitated bird and a decomposing fish whose skeletal remains had somehow fused with the lawn. And before you freak out, no, I’m not weekending at a pet cemetery. Neighborhood dogs sometimes find dead fish and animals and drag them into the yard to play with (or to leave as gifts, I don’t know, dogs probably think dead animals are a pretty nifty way to say I love you). So I had a valid reason to be concerned that Forest might find a fish head in the sand. And did I mention that the sandlot had a dozen ant hills and lots of bugs? If Forest had been infested with creepy, crawly things two weekends in a row, I probably would have made him a doggy suit out of plastic wrap to wear outdoors.

Luckily, Forest dug a big, empty hole with no surprises.

Forest’s first hole

Uh, remember to breath.

Sleep puppy takes a break.

Forest: What? I’m digging, leave me alone.

Later, as I was telling this story to a coworker, I commented on how lucky we are that Forest has yet to dig up our lawn at home, probably because there are no rotting animals buried anywhere to entice him. Then it occurred to me, oh gross, maybe there are. Do people still bury dead pets in their backyard? I remember digging a very small grave in our yard for Goldie the goldfish when I was in grade school, but I think all of our fury pets were cremated when they passed. Some older neighborhoods must have a few Fluffys and Fidos buried out back, but maybe we’ll luck out since we live in a semi-new neighborhood. Still, I’ll be keeping an eye on Forest’s digging habits, make sure he doesn’t find a new friend in our backyard.

Pirate Puppy