A boy and a dog have to dig. It’s in their nature. Millions of years of evolution have implanted in them an irresistible craving to put holes in the ground Entire YouTube channels are likely devoted entirely to digging holes.
Clover digs these holes when she’s frustrated. If she’s been outside most of the day and is aware that we’re home, she wants to join us. If we don’t let her in, she digs. We open the window in the kitchen and shout down the hill, “Clover! No!” This stops her for a short time, but it’s never more than a few minutes before she starts digging again.
“You’re digging your own grave, dog,” I’ve muttered to her countless times when E and I are heading down to take out the compost, and at this point, the dog has just about gotten a whole big enough that she does indeed fit into it.
As for the Boy’s holes, they’re a different story. Occasionally he’s on a golf kick and wants to have a hole to shoot for. Never mind all he’s got are a cheap driver and iron from the thrift store. He uses them both as putters and sometimes decides he needs a hole to shoot for.
Other times, he’s building something. Tonight, he was working on a lean-to because he’d see it on his favorite YouTube channel. That involved a number of power tools and a bit of elbow grease, and we got very little of it done. But the hole — the most important part of the day — was completed.
