Me and Bigguy are in the truck. I like the truck because it goes fast. I stick my head out the window and the wind is in my fur and my teeth. I bark at the wind! Bigguy tells me, “Shut up.” Bigguy smells nervous. Maybe he is excited like me because we’re going to play dig. I love to dig! Bigguy loves to dig too because he does it fast.
We are in the woods and Bigguy digs with his shovel and I dig with my claws. I dig hard! I made the dirt fly behind me and he throws dirt over his shoulder. We dig and dig and it is great. We make a big hole for the dead thing. I should be digging but the dead thing smells. It is full of rot smell and maggot smell and mold smell. It has so many smells I can’t tell what kind of dead thing it is. I put my face near the dead thing to sniff better and see better, but I sniff all the same rot smells. The dead thing is not all one thing because it is cut up in many parts and I don’t know what sort of dead thing all those parts make.
“Get away!” Bigguy yells and he is angry. Don’t be angry Bigguy. I am walking away from the dead thing. It is your dead thing. I won’t sniff it. See my tail between my legs? I am sorry.
Bigguy throws his dead thing in the hole. I stay away until he starts throwing dirt on it. I know this part! We are burying. I like burying as much as I like digging. Me and Bigguy throw more dirt. I’m helping. I’m a good helper!
We’re in the truck again and dig time is over. No more dirt. No more trees. No more dead thing. Bigguy talks to his phone and drives. He doesn’t tell it any words I know. I am tired so I lay my head on his lap. Bigguy puts down his phone and makes a big sigh. He says some more words I don’t know, but I think he’s talking to me. I make a big sigh too. Then he says my favoritest words ever, the happiest words I know, “Good boy,” he says and pets my head, “You’re a good boy.”