Preparing for the Storm

Hurricane Irene was on her way. I headed out back followed by my trusty hound. I thought it might be a good idea, before the storm hit, to fill in the graves along the foundation that extend almost the entire length of the house.

I went to the shed and grabbed a shovel, a tamper, a hoe, and some pruners. I pruned some of the vegetation out of the way, loosened up some of the compacted dirt with the hoe and shoveled it into the first grave with the shovel. I tamped it down as good as I could, then took my shovel, hoe, and pruners and moved on to the next grave. When that was filled, I went back to the first grave to retrieve my tamper and found a hound dog rapidly re-excavating his hole. I yelled, "HEY, GET OUT OF THERE," and grabbed the bad dog's collar and dragged him away.

I picked up my tamper, re-tamped the dirt in the first hole and returned to the second, where I found Ray re-excavating his grave.

With a serious case of deja vu, I yelled, "HEY, GET OUT OF THERE," grabbed the bad dog's collar and dragged him away. I tamped the dirt down and moved on to the third grave.

I kept a wary eye on Ray while working on the third grave. Until I forgot. The sound of dirt clods flying reminded me that there was a gravedigger on the loose. I grabbed his collar, led him to the kitchen and turned my helpful dog over to Gregg. "Could you close the dog door," I asked. I heard it thunk shut as I returned to finish my task.