Diggin' Life

I am a digger. I am not sure where I got this particular trait, but it is in my little tiny Chihuahua blood. I know it doesn’t always make sense to anyone else. My Dad thinks that I am trying to dig my way back to Mexico. He is pretty funny. The truth is that I don’t even know why I do it. I dig carpet, dog beds, dirt, rocks (we know where those end up) and even blankets. When I dig, I feel incredibly productive, like I am doing something worthwhile and with purpose. If I came across a big huge bone while I am digging, it would feel really worthwhile. I have noticed that people dig as well. In the winter, I see my parents digging in the snow. When our electricity went out last summer, my Dad was digging a lot! He was using a big metal thing and I was thinking that they probably have those in my size. He was also using words that I usually hear when I have done something REALLY BAD! I was pretty sure it wasn’t me that time, but I’m sure it will be me next time. Maybe I dig for trouble? Who knows, but if you are a digger too, don’t be ashamed. It is a compulsion and unless you want to attend therapy to rid yourself of it, you might as well embrace it as I have. Who knows, I hear there is lots of sun in Mexico!

Chuck

Diggity Dog