I talk a lot about the backyard, because it’s important to me. It’s important to the humans, too, and it just got a whole lot more important, because they bought a swimming pool. Now, the way the backyard is set up, you can’t do any real digging in it close to the house, except for a couple of bones, because Dad says all the gas and electric stuff is under the grass there. So they bought the kind you have to take down every year. Jamie is so excited; he’s been after Dad for years about this, from what I heard Mom saying. Naturally, I helped out by sitting in the middle of the liner, snatching all the tools and running away with them, licking Dad’s face when he was sitting on the ground trying to install the legs; that sort of thing. I like to be helpful. I know they appreciated my efforts, because they kept shouting my name.
However, I couldn’t help them all the time, and when they weren’t looking, I was busy with my crate. See, Dad sells “home improvements” and is pretty good at it, which Mom thinks is funny because Dad says he really can’t fix anything, but he’s good at telling people what to do. Although he did a good job on the pool. Anyway, Dad had taken two old carpet samples from his work that they were going to throw away, and put them under my fleece crate liner. I didn’t like them. I dragged out the crate liner, and set that aside. Then, I attacked the carpet samples. I wiggled them out one at a time and began to chew, and chew, and chew until they were just a loose pile of remnants on the floor. When Mom came in and saw my proud pile of shreds, she couldn’t believe it. “It’s a whole new meaning to shag carpet!” she said. Dad just laughed and said, “It wasn’t our best seller, anyway!”