She is one of my best friends, and, for the most part, we co-exist very
But the dog digs. Holes. BIGASS Holes. My daughter and I are both 5'
4". When the daughter stands in the hole, she barely comes up to my
shoulder. I know, because I made her stand in the hole.
What can I do?
Your parameters for the solution:
* No, I'm not going to shoot the dog or get rid of the dog. She's
family. I cannot even whomp her over the head with a newspaper, as the
holes are dug while I'm at work, and, although she is very bright (#7 on
the top ten intelligent dog list), I don't think she would get cause and
effect, as in "Mama's whomping the hell outta me with a newspaper
because I dug that hole".
* I must go to work every day, leaving her alone.
* No she is not bored. She had two fenced acres to run around in.
Woodlands. Dead squirrels. Bunnies. Her husband, Toby, the Border Collie.
* When I fill one hole, she watches, and as soon as I exit my estate,
she digs another.
* Somebody's gonna break a leg, stepping in the holes. They will sue.
I'm very serious here. Think outside of the box. What can I do?
> What can I do?
1. Teach the dog to use a shovel, then set her to work in the
garden, pointing to the weeds 'n the rocks you want removed.
2. That neighbor that irritates you? Send the dog over there during
3. Tell everyone that the latest "pink" in landscaping is moonscape
and you are on the leading edge, neener.
4. Do something daring and sillyassed. Teach the dog that you own
the yard. It's your yard. Do this by following the dog around.
Every time the dog looks like it's going to do something fun for the
dog, hiss at her sharply, menacingly, and take a menacing step toward
her, your head held high. Make her back down from the fun thing.
Then YOU do the fun thing and make her watch -- dig. Get down there
and dig like the world's survival depends on the depth of your hole.
Pause to neener at the dog every now and then. Lather, rinse,
5. Fill the yard with concrete. That'll teach ol' Blue.
6. Plant the occasional land mine.
7. Get a shock collar. Every time Blue starts to dig, shock her and
growl "NO!" at her.
8. Hang the dog as an example for all other dogs who dig. Send me
the mpegs of the event and I will show them to my own dogs, who
likewise like to dig, but prefer to dig up the $17 plants rather than
random deep-ass holes in the yard.
Hope this helps.
What we are doing is far too important to be taken seriously -- K. W.
>5. Fill the yard with concrete.
If there's anything I hate, it's someone who steals my ideas before I
even post them.
"President Washington, President Lincoln, President Wilson,
President Roosevelt have all authorized electronic
surveillance on a far broader scale." - Alberto Gonzales
Get rid of that whatchamacallit and get a dog. A Lab.
Donna (Damn. You can be quite good.)
I dig dogs. That's a pun, please laugh.
Waiting until your daugter gets taller will not help.
Everyone needs holes dug from time to time--for putting in fence lines,
planting trees or burying treasure, the hatchet, etc. So don't look a gift
horse (dog) in the mouth. I suggest you take that newspaper and spread it
out where you would like a hole to be dug--like I did when I paper trained
my dog Scrotum--and train her to dig there. Then plant a tree in the hole
and get a *Greenie* award from whacko environmentalists; or get a cemetery
license and go into business burying dwarfs.
This is the age of specialization, and families of dwarfs resent having to
pay for a whole big burial plot just for that little-bitty casket.
The word from my official dog consultant is not terribly much. But she
did suggest creating a digging area in the yard and leading the dog to
it whenever you see her start digging.
>I have a dog. She is an Australian Shepherd,
> and her name is Blue. Because of her pretty,
> albeit slightly bulgy, icy-blue eyes.
> She is one of my best friends, and, for the
> most part, we co-exist very well together.
> But the dog digs. Holes. BIGASS Holes.
> My daughter and I are both 5' 4". When
> the daughter stands in the hole, she barely
> comes up to my shoulder. I know, because
> I made her stand in the hole.
> What can I do? <snip>
Stop using "albeit" and "the daughter."
Blue is seeking air.
> I have a dog. She is an Australian Shepherd, and her name is Blue.
> Because of her pretty, albeit slightly bulgy, icy-blue eyes. She is
> one of my best friends, and, for the most part, we co-exist very well
> But the dog digs. Holes. BIGASS Holes. My daughter and I are both 5'
<aside> This place is thick with Tall Folk. </aside>
> When the daughter stands in the hole, she barely comes up to my
> shoulder. I know, because I made her stand in the hole.
Did she get the copy of President Lincoln's Emancipation Speech wot I
> What can I do?
Plant more stuff. Big stuff. Blue sees ya dig holes and plant stuff and
is tryin' to help out.
> Your parameters for the solution:
<grumble> There's always a catch. </grumble>
> * No, I'm not going to shoot the dog or get rid of the dog.
<shocked!> 'Course not! She's free labo(u)r!
> She's family.
What's family got to do with yer "can't shoot or get rid off" clause?
> I cannot even whomp her over the head with a newspaper, as the
> holes are dug while I'm at work, and, although she is very bright (#7 on
> the top ten intelligent dog list), I don't think she would get cause and
> effect, as in "Mama's whomping the hell outta me with a newspaper
> because I dug that hole".
See, if ya hadn't gotten rid of the moles, ya coulda hired them to pop
out of the ground and whomp Blue on the head with petite newspapers.
> * I must go to work every day, leaving her alone.
> * No she is not bored. She had two fenced acres to run around in.
> Woodlands. Dead squirrels. Bunnies. Her husband, Toby, the Border Collie.
Well, then it prolly ain't separation anxiety behavio(u)r, but it sure
sounds like a type of Doggie Boredom ( <-- professional term).
<checking (Official) Psychotherapy Appointment Book>
Lessee... I have Thursdays at ten ayem open. Shall I pencil in Blue to
pop in then and search for her Inner Puppy ( <-- professional term)?
See, Blue just needs a job. Not that there's anything wrong with Dead
Squirrels, but they do not readily lend themselves to bein' herded. Nor
do Bunnies. I suggest that ya build a petite corral, invite lots of
little Miz Bobblehead's friends over, make sure they consume a lot of
sugar, and then set them free to run about the estate. Blue and Toby
will know what to do. But they will still need to attend their weekly
therapy sessions... mebbe even twice a week, 'cause them parrot toys get
Was Toby the lost puppy wot suckered you in---I mean, who captured yer
heart a while back? Anyway, he oughta come in for analysis, too--if he
ain't openly actin' out, then he's prolly secretly compensatin' for his
Frustrated Desire for Control with some other kinda destructive
> * When I fill one hole, she watches, and as soon as I exit my estate,
> she digs another.
Mebbe she's just shy yer. Sir Harvey's more upfront about this type of
game. Take, fer instance, what he used to do when I was chattin' on the
phone and he had decided that I needed to ring off and give him my full
attention. He'd stand behind his toy box, throw a toy [THUD!] to catch
my eye (gawd, no, not literally), and, while never breaking eye contact,
he'd methodically reach in, grab a toy with his beak, swing it out and
over the edge of his toy box, hold it aloft a second, and then drop it.
[THUD! THUD! THUD!] Over and over, until he ran out of toys. Harvey
would watch me as I picked up the toys and put them back in the toy box,
and, then, he'd laugh. Now when he thinks I should ring off, he just
starts sayin', "OK, alrighty, then, thanks, yeah, you too, 'bye!" Then
he barks. So, don't fret--soon Blue will prolly be comfortable enough to
dig holes right in front of you. And laugh when ya fill them in.
> * Somebody's gonna break a leg, stepping in the holes. They will sue.
Oh, I don't think so... I mean, ya already got a digger, sturdy
gardening tools, and lots o' quicklime. And, many acres. BTW, I'm havin'
a SPECIAL SALE on elderberry wine at The Emporium.
> I'm very serious here. Think outside of the box.
What box? The toy box?
> What can I do?
I didn't know there was gonna be a test! This doesn't count towards the
final, does it? 'Cause it ain't fair if it does. 'K, lessee...
Ummm... you raise lovely African violets, you plan major Rock and
Topsoil Heists, you tell stories usin' a deadpan manner that causes
peeps to roll about in fits of laughter (at least I think that's what
the fits are about), you can somehow carry that talent into yer writing,
yer licensed to carry a spatchcock, you can grow lasagna in a garden
(sumpthin' like that, I was too busy rollin' about in laughter to be
sure), you and Miz Doyle can sing CW songs (inspirin' airport transport
drivers to get to yer destination a hell of a lot faster than usual),
with just a few words (spoken with the sweetest Southern Charm) you can
drive a nice, quiet store clerk to apoplexy (can't remember wot ya said,
I was too busy rollin' about in laughter), and... and, you can play
"Fill up the holes in the back 40" with Blue!
What do I win?
Sylvia <---- Supreme Ruler of MW & A Respectable Person of Bidness
Visit the MW Alphabet & Hat Emporium, Inc.
Conveniently located in downtown MW, near the Bridge of <Sigh>s
> If there's anything I hate, it's someone who steals my ideas before I
> even post them.
I can't tell ya how many times Mr. Hope has done that to me. *Most*
annoying, I must say. Especially when he sez it better than I would
have. Not that I'd admit that.
Sylvia <---- Has a Baby Parrot named Harvey!
Yeah! I'm the only one that can use "albeit"!
ALBEIT! ALBEIT! ALBEIT! Neener.
> and "the daughter."
Lemme tell ya sumpthin', Mr. Tetractys--Miz deMed's been usin' that
child as gardenin' slave labo(u)r ever since I've known her, and she
ain't gonna stop now. Trust me on this. 
> Blue is seeking air.
How do ya know that Blue ain't seekin' China? Or, Jimmy Hoffa? Or,
mebbe, Pterodactyls... to herd, like? Just wonderin'.
 Or, don't. Here: Miz deMed sez...
"Turns out for FIFTEEN YEARS, he's been throwing his leaf
clippings and mulched leaves over a fence and down a 15' ravine,
and yesterday, me and the kid went there and clambered down
the 15' ravine and got FOUR TRASH BAGS -- THE BIG BLACK
TRASH BAGS full of it.
"The kid does not celebrate this fact, and, in fact, gets kind of
a weepy look on her face when I say, "come on! let's go to the
recycling center (ala the dump) and look for compostibles!" but
she is 17, and all 17's are irrational." 6/26/2004
"I've become quite the expert at quickly scanning the road (you
always wanna look up ahead) and determining by the shape of
the [black plastic] bag which ones are leaves. I then drop the
sullen child out to pick up the leaves, and sometimes I have to
circle the block to pick up the sullen child and the leaves, and
then when you get your treasures home, and your emptying them
onto your compost pile you find that they've put TRASH in the
bags, contaminating the leaves.
"Makes me want to take the bag back and just scatter them on
their front lawn with a note saying, "do it right, next time, you
rat bastard. Don't contaminate the leaves." 8/21/2004
1. Straight away, make your daughter a set of stilts or a portable
2. Train the dog to dig on command. Use the command less and less
Alternatively you could shop for a second dog, one who fills holes.
The sane answer to insanity is madness.
>Subtlety is the art of saying what you think and getting out of the
>way before it is understood. Me <adl...@mindspring.com>, who posted
>in misc.writing on 27 May 2007 demonstrates this principle in this
>> What can I do?
>1. Teach the dog to use a shovel, then set her to work in the
>garden, pointing to the weeds 'n the rocks you want removed.
>2. That neighbor that irritates you? Send the dog over there during
>3. Tell everyone that the latest "pink" in landscaping is moonscape
>and you are on the leading edge, neener.
>4. Do something daring and sillyassed. Teach the dog that you own
>the yard. It's your yard. Do this by following the dog around.
>Every time the dog looks like it's going to do something fun for the
>dog, hiss at her sharply, menacingly, and take a menacing step toward
>her, your head held high.
Hissing won't work, you have to growl and pee on the dog.
Now that you're back, tell us about your vacation.
> But the dog digs. Holes.
I lived, for nearly fifteen years, with a pack of four good-sized dogs:
a collie-cross, two huskies and a newfoundland-tervuren cross.
They dug in the half acre of fenced yard and all over the thirty acres
behind it during our daily jaunts to the ridgeline.
Sometimes they'd have common digging projects, working on the same
excavation, one after the other, until, had the hole been on Wake Island
in ‘41, John Wayne coulda hid in it.
Early on I figured these shared digs were meant to dig something up, a
bone, maybe a body, but that was never the case. Or they never went far
enough. . .
> What can I do?
I never figured out a way to stop it. I just learned to avoid the
excavations. But I wasn't all that bothered by them.
Y'might try this though, assuming you're her primary person:
Take the dog to one of the holes, and tell her "No" in a firm and loud
voice a few times, then ignore her for twenty minutes. Don't pet her,
talk to her, or acknowledge her existence in any way for that period.
If she nuzzles your hand, move it. It she stands in front of you, walk
through her like she's not there.
I had a real housebreaking problem with Amos, who, as an fifty pound
four month only puppy was still occasionally shitting in the extra
bedroom. It was easier, getting yelled at or bopped on the head with a
rolled newspaper, than going outside, especially if it was raining or
Housebroke him with the ignoring in three days. . .
Former foster son who raised newfs, who gave Amos to me in the first
place, told me about that trick.
Good luck though.
If there are no dogs in Heaven,
then when I die I want to go
where they went.
Now available: "Nobody Knows, Nobody Sees"
Herald-Leader Column: http://www.kentucky.com/mld/kentucky/14945607.htm
MISSING MOUNTAINS: http://www.windpub.com/books/missing.htm
> Josh Hill wrote:
>> If there's anything I hate, it's someone who steals my ideas before I
>> even post them.
>I can't tell ya how many times Mr. Hope has done that to me. *Most*
>annoying, I must say. Especially when he sez it better than I would
>have. Not that I'd admit that.
Liar! Liar! Hope steals /my/ ideas before I post them.
>Mr. Tetractys wrote:
>> Me wrat:
>> >I have a dog. She is an Australian Shepherd,
>> > and her name is Blue. Because of her pretty,
>> > albeit slightly bulgy, icy-blue eyes.
>> > She is one of my best friends, and, for the
>> > most part, we co-exist very well together.
>> > But the dog digs. Holes. BIGASS Holes.
>> > My daughter and I are both 5' 4". When
>> > the daughter stands in the hole, she barely
>> > comes up to my shoulder. I know, because
>> > I made her stand in the hole.
>> > What can I do? <snip>
>> Stop using "albeit"
>Yeah! I'm the only one that can use "albeit"!
>ALBEIT! ALBEIT! ALBEIT! Neener.
Stop calling Albert.
> I'm very serious here. Think outside of the box. What can I do?
One of our dogs likes to dig up our irrigation system, but only when
it's running. She can hear the sound of the water underground. She
likes our pool plumbing, too. She goes after burrowing insects, in our
case, ground wasps. Getting stung doesn't dampen her enthusiasm.
Is the dog chasing tunneling rodents or even insects? They can be
dealt with, or better yet, confined to a back corner of the yard where
the dog can dig without danger to friends and intruders.
Alternately, drive a pipe into the ground and remove a thin tube of
earth. Then drop an old mechanical ticking watch or some cheap chinese
electronic noise maker in the hole. (I'm thinking of those tiny toy
birds that chirp every few seconds for months. You could get them at
Archie McPhee.) Then drop a wood dowel in the hole. The dog will go
insane trying to get at the noise maker and leave the rest of the yard
A piece of dead meat sometimes works, too, but the danger is the dog
will actually dig it up and get sick. A neighbor once vomited in our
yard on a cold New Year's Eve, and the dog dined on it for weeks.
Don't dig a hole to bury decoys. The earth will be loose and the dog
will have it up in minutes.
Be sure to keep the claws short. It will slow the digging. Some dogs
dig because their long claws bother them.
> .. Miz deMed's been usin' that child as
> gardenin' slave labo(u)r ever since I've
> known her, and she ain't gonna stop ...
Then Blue will continue to dig.
> How do ya know that Blue ain't seekin'
> China? Or, Jimmy Hoffa? Or, mebbe,
> Pterodactyls... to herd, like? ...
>A neighbor once vomited in our
>yard on a cold New Year's Eve, and the dog dined on it for weeks.
Some things just should never be committed to the theoretical
eternity of Google.
>> A neighbor once vomited in our yard
>> on a cold New Year's Eve, and the
>> dog dined on it for weeks.
> Some things just should never be committed
> to the theoretical eternity of Google.
So millennia from now, folks shouldn't read
about Eugene, a friend's puppy who puked
up the catfood he'd scarfed, ate the puke,
puked that up, then dined for a third time in
front of an incredulous yet appreciative
We are all =so= glad you spelt "millennia" correctly.
(Who would name a puppy "Eugene"? A Eugene Gene Royer fan?)
((Our cat does a similar thing. You hear her gawfk cacf brfff in the
night on the landing next to the deck ... next morning? Nothing there.
How weird is that?))
Ye olde swarm of links: thousands of links for writers, researchers and
the terminally curious <http://writers.internet-resources.com>
> We are all =so= glad you spelt
> "millennia" correctly.
It's one of the things I learned here.
Not how to spell, to fear wrath.
> (Who would name a puppy "Eugene"?
> A Eugene Gene Royer fan?)
Pnope. Someone travelling down an
alley in Eugene, Oregon, finding a boy
with a box of puppies with the word
"free" written in crayon.
> ((Our cat does a similar thing. You hear
> her gawfk cacf brfff in the night on the
> landing next to the deck ... next morning?
> Nothing there. How weird is that?))
OK. I wasn't going to share this, but ... .
One night in my yute, too much Crown Royal
coupled with overindulgence in pizza. New
rental house on a party lake, crawled home
from the neighbor's. Passed out on the
uncovered mattress with the spins. Woke
up sometime around 3 with a desire to
reverse the pie and did so without
energy to lean beyond the Serta. Woke
up again at 7 knowing I had to find a new
mattress or perform an unpleasant chore.
But the mattress was clean. Was I
dreaming? Head swollen and inflamed,
I achieved verticality. Front door left open,
sought coffee, found neighborhood stray
licking his paws and smiling, thanks for
> Get rid of that whatchamacallit
and get a dog. A Lab.
> No charge.
And that's about what it's worth.
Saw a chocolate lab pup at the parade today. 2.5 months. Still had
I don't understand why they can't come up with a woman's cologne called,
Donna (I swear, the NY Post Sports Writers are outstanding. Don't you
Problem is the digging is dug while I'm not there, so any kind of
behavior modification is worthless. And, after thinking about it, I
feel she is seeking the coolness of fresh dug dirt on her stomach. I
can understand this. It was 91 today. There is a part of me that
wishes to dig down, 'bouts 7 inches, where the soil is cool, and just
My next step is to drag BobbleHead's wading pool out front, her prime
digging area, and perhaps she will cool her stomach in the wading pool.
Donna (Albeit. Don't tell me I can't say that. I will if I want to. I
told The Daughter "I'll say albeit if I want to", and she said, "What??".)
> Problem is the digging is dug while I'm not there, so any kind of
> behavior modification is worthless.
it's sure to work because it's doggy psychology 101.
as soon as you come home and discover a newly dug hole, pound a strong
stake deep into the hole.
then short-leash Blue to the pole for a couple hours -- adjust time to
suit plus or minus three hours, as well as providing other amenities
like favorite chewtoys, water bowl, etc.
Blue will come to a doggy understanding that Blue dug its own hole.
after unleashing, leave the pole there and wait repeat for every new
hole that Blue digs.
lengthening leash time for each new hole.
see what happens.
if and when Blue stops digging its own holes, remove all poles and
refill with dirt.
if that doesn't work, start again, but this time instead of short-
leashing Blue to the poles, progressively bury Blue in each of the
subsequent holes -- providing less and less amenities for each new
be sure to video tape this doggy psychology behavior modification
experiment for humor value (as well as later possible prosecution
should things eventually get out of hand).
> >> Stop using "albeit"
> >Yeah! I'm the only one that can use "albeit"!
> >ALBEIT! ALBEIT! ALBEIT! Neener.
> Stop calling Albert.
I DID NOT!
Al is a LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!
I called Al "Ernie".
Sylvia (and, I ain't gonna apologize!)
"Truth, fiction, plots, twists, turns, complications,
heroes, antagonists, climaxes -- and sometimes we
even talk about writing...!"
- MR FRM on Life in MW
>I don't understand why they can't come up with a woman's cologne called,
If it attracts you, what good would it be?
Oh. Never mind.
> Stan (the Man) wrote:
>> Get rid of that whatchamacallit
> Australian Shepherd.
S'what I said.
> and get a dog. A Lab.
>> No charge.
> And that's about what it's worth.
'K. Get a not Lab and you'll have holes. Already know that, though,
> Saw a chocolate lab pup at the parade today. 2.5 months. Still had
> puppy breath.
> I don't understand why they can't come up with a woman's cologne
> called, "Puppy Breath".
'Cuz, then men will want to pick you up and scratch your bel . . . Ah! I
see what you mean.
> Donna (I swear, the NY Post Sports Writers are outstanding. Don't you
> think, Stan?)
The Post is the only credible and interesting paper left in NY. Well,
that and the WSJ. And, El Diario, but I don't read Spanish well enough.