It's been hailing here today. I'm trying to get out to the backyard to break up some concrete way down the back for my wife Nicole to plant a bigger veggie garden. Fraser, our three-year-old has been helping. He loves to see the concrete break up. Me too. Nic too. Campbell our baby too - if he knew what concrete was. Jedda our Border Collie/Sheltie too. Any excuse to get us in the backyard is fine by her.
Morris our black cat doesn't care - concrete is not food.
Speaking of Jedda and food, on Thursday morning Nic noticed that Jedda had been digging a hole in the backyard. Now this is unusual because Jedda is a model citizen dog who doesn't dig or bark unless we want her too, with is not often because we don't like her digging or barking. So anyway, she dug a hole and Nic went for a look. I did too, but I didn't have my shoes on so couldn't get as close to it as Nic (because the grass was wet from rain).
So I'm like "What's in there?", and Nic's like "An animal or something!", and I'm like "No way! It must be a rock or something", and she's like "No it's not a rock, I know rock when I see one", and I'm like "How can it be an animal and not a rock?!", and she's like "Well get your shoes on and see for yourself!", and I'm like "OK!".
It was an animal and not a rock.
So I'm looking at it, wondering what an animal was doing in a hole in our backyard, and I have to say it was TOTALLY gross. It stunk like a dead "something", and the meat was all white, with white hair on it, and what was WORSE, was that our cute Oh-I-love-to-lick-your-face dog had been EATING IT!...
Then I noticed some black plastic in the hole too and it all made sense. "Hey Nic, this is obviously someone's pet that died and was buried in our backyard!", says I.
"Oh, that's nice, honey", she replied. She'd kinda lost interest by then. She had motherly things to worry about like feeding our baby Campbell. You know, 'cause she's a mother.
But I'm thinking about the animal in the hole in the backyard, and then I start thinking "God, what if it's not an animal, what if it's part of a person!", so I yell out to her "God, what if it's not an animal, what if it's part of a person!". She's ignoring me by now. Apparently keeping our boys alive is her main priority these days.
So I go into our shed (I'm getting late for work by now, by the way, because it's Thursday morning, and I have to work on Thursdays.), and get all the shovels and crowbars that I can find, and start digging the thing up. God it stunk. I think the smell got into my skin, 'cause it took a couple of days before I finally was able to get the smell out of my nostrils. Everything smelt like that thing in the hole...
So I'm digging, and it's stinking, and sure enough, it has a bag around it, and then I can see that it's a dog. A former PET dog apparently. "God I'm clever", I say to myself. But that ego boost doesn't help the smell, with is just getting worse and worse. Jedda by the way is getting pretty excited, 'cause she thinks I'm helping her dig up her dinner and play toy for the next few weeks. Then I realise that now that I've uncovered the putrid smelly white former rover, that I've gotta get totally rid of it somehow, somewhere... How do I lift it out of there without touching the putrid smelly white dead thing? It was too big to lift with the shovel, and I should know 'cause I tried.
Anyway to cut a long story short because I always ramble on too much, I did lift it out - with some rope that I'm happy to now never see again, and wrapped in an old curtain that I'm now happy to never see again, and put it in our big black wheelie bin which I hope to see again, but without a smelly dead dog of course. I nearly puked in the process. Nic came back out and helped and she also nearly puked in the process. Campbell was nowhere near it but he puked anyway, because that’s what babies do.
We later found out from our neighbours that the said putrid smelly white former rover was a girl-dog called Candy, and she had died about 15 months earlier! No wonder it/she stunk. It/she was pretty well preserved, actually.
Moral of the story. Don't bury your pet dog in a sealed plastic bag unless you want the dog of future owners of your house to dig it up and then an entire family to nearly puke while throwing it in the bin to get rid of it (which also means that your lovely pet's body would end up at horrible rubbish tip, instead of in a nice hole in your backyard...)