Burying It and Digging it Up

Our maniac dog is obsessed with taking a bone or a treat and burying it. The backyard is her favorite but she also likes to hide things in a sofa or household plants. I have tried to explain to her that she is the only dog here and it's safe to leave it out. She's not buying it.

The husband thinks I adopted a dog with my personality. We do have some similar traits:

She's very vocal. She hates to hear "No."
She's affectionate. Probably more than necessary.
She loves music. Lying under the piano and playing her squeaky ball is big fun.
She's loyal.
She likes to bend the rules.

I'm also good at burying things. I bury them inside to fester. I convince myself that I have moved on. But sometimes someone will push me to the wall. I dig it up.

Digging

My dog is a digger, although I am trying to cure her of this tendency. There's one spot in the back yard that I'm pretty sure she's digging to China. As you know, if she succeeds, I'm going with her. Now we have five or so inches of fresh snow on the ground so she's digging through that. She throws her whole head in it. When I'm having a hot flash, I'm tempted to do the same.

I'm a good digger. (Please forgive the ego stroke.) Growing up, I never realized that I was a nerdy person. Yes, I liked school and had an abnormal affection for libraries. But I liked other stuff too. I choose to believe I was well-rounded.

I am rarely without a dictionary. I LOVE research. If I'm curious about anything, I will dig it up. The Internet and many search engines make me giddy.

The other day a friend was looking for a particular speech. Her husband wants to share it with their grandson. With undue bravado, I said, "I can find it." (My mother gave me the "You are crazy" look.) She should know by now that I love a challenge.

I like digging for useful information because I spend most of my days digging a hole for myself with my sassy mouth. Usually with the oldies.