I don’t know about you other gods, oh excuse me, dogs, out there, but there’s almost nothing that brings me more joy than digging a hole. Is it the sweet scent of whatever I’m digging up, the feel of the ground beneath my paws, or the annoyance that it causes my mother? I’m not going to lie, it may be all three.
Over the weekend I visited a location that is quite probably my favorite, and that is the beach. Prime hole digging territory. I don’t think there’s anything to compare the potentials of a beach to, that is unless there’s a giant pile of dirt around.
I know the beach means I have to behave in the confines of a car for near 90 minutes, but there’s something about your nose hitting that fresh salty air that makes the ride worthwhile. By the time we get to the parking lot I’m all in a tizzy because I’m so excited. I guarantee mom has told me “enough” about 90 times, but I don’t think she really understands that I’m simply letting her know I’m grateful about where we are.
When we finally park I’m so excited I swear I’m going to shake my fur off. These days I’m working on this word “stay” so I’m not allowed to jump out of the car and run around like a maniac; something about it being “dangerous,” I don’t know. Anyway, mom finally opens the door, I’m almost in convulsions because I want to run, the leash goes on and the word “ok” is said, and now I’m a free man!
We hit the ground running because both of us have tons of energy, but I bet mom really does it for my sake. Pretty soon we’re on the sand and I’m already beating her because I have four paws and she only has two. We run around the beach for a bit and then she lets me start my quest for digging the most holes possible.
Now, let me tell you, there is no wrong place to dig a hole, but often times the best holes dug on a beach are right near where people are walking… that away they can admire your work. Just make sure to not dig a hole near the water! First off, water is scary, but second, the holes never seem to last. Anyway, I digress. As the day goes on mom is patient and lets me sniff out all the areas I can dig, dig, dig, then we repeat this activity for a good mile up and down the beach, or typically until I’m too tired to go on.
At the end of the day I sit next to mom on the sand while she watches the waves and I rest my head on my sandy paws. My muscles are tired and my heart is full because I know mom took this day specially for me. I know that she and I are both daydreaming about the next time we’ll be back so I can continue my quest for finding whatever it is beneath the sand.