The Hole

 

It was not long after Okami arrived last year that we became aware of her delight in digging holes. She is a border collie, on the small size for her breed, but very friendly and a bundle of energy.

She had not been with us long before the first hole appeared. This was in a flower bed, nowhere near anything we wanted to continue growing, so we had no problem with it. However, the next hole was in the middle of the lawn, and that was certainly a problem. Not only did it look awful, but it posed the constant threat of turning an ankle if one stepped into it – and that is indeed what happened more than once.

Of course, we tried filling it in, but that did not last long. The next day all the infill would be out again, so we gave up trying. We consoled ourselves with the notion that she would eventually grow out of the habit, but we were wrong on that one.

The fact is, she loved just having a hole in the lawn, apart from the pleasure she gained from the digging of it. She could drop things into the hole and then fetch them out again. She devised a form of doggie golf – nudging a ball towards the hole and then patting it forwards with her nose from increasing distances. She was soon scoring holes in one from up to three feet away.

Oh well, we thought, if it keeps her quiet and we watch where we put our feet, maybe having a hole in the lawn is not such a terrible thing after all.

If only we had known how things would turn out.

It must have been about three months ago when we spotted that the hole was getting bigger. As Okami dug, less and less of her could be seen above the surface. She – like virtually all border collies – has a prominent white tip to her tail, and before long this was all we could see, wagging furiously as she scrabbled away. Then even that disappeared as the hole got both deeper and wider.

It wasn’t just balls and toys that went down the hole. Other things from the garden were dropped in – flowerpots of increasingly larger dimensions, then whole plants – small ones to start with, then quite substantial shrubs and bushes. We knew things were getting serious when the wheelbarrow vanished followed by the garden furniture – a couple of folding chairs then a table and a substantial wooden bench.

It was obvious by now that we no longer had a lawn with a hole it. We had a hole with a fringe of lawn round it.

Things got really bad when the fridge disappeared. We knew at this stage that Okami must have had help of some kind. It had taken two guys with a trolley to get the fridge into the house, so it was just plain impossible for a small border collie to get it out of the kitchen and into the hole all on her own.

We reckon that she must have been planning all this for weeks in advance. We had thought that all those little doggie conversations during her morning walks when other dogs came up to play and exchange sniffs of rear ends were just innocent greetings, but there was clearly much more to it than that.

This became clear when we realized that other dog-owners in the village had reported their dogs to be missing. Not only had Okami vanished from view, but so had every other dog within a half-mile radius. They must have been responsible for carrying our fridge out of the house and depositing it down the hole, then jumping down after it. The fridge contained lots of cold meat, such as chicken, beef and ham – all excellent sustenance for a team of hole-digging dogs. Many of the dogs must have brought other supplies with them, as several losses of Sunday joints and barbecue reserves were reported along with those of the dogs themselves.

The really odd thing was that nobody ever saw any of this activity taking place. Okami and her mates were so clever at hiding their tracks and doing all this when nobody was watching. Clearly we have underestimated the resources of the average dog to an alarming degree.

We knew that the hole must have been getting really deep when the village suddenly became deprived of every ladder that wasn’t securely locked away, and even some that were. Not only that, but the digging dogs must have realized the need for a secure structure to support the ladders. That was why builders were amazed to find, on turning up to work after one weekend, that every roof repair and house extension project in the village had lost all its scaffolding. Not a single pole or board was to be seen – the whole lot had vanished.

Of course, the Police were contacted and we were happy enough to tell them about the huge hole in our garden. They said they would look into it, which they duly did. Like us, all they could see was inky blackness and hear a very distant sound of panting and scrabbling.

We had given up all hope ever seeing our dog – let alone our fridge – again, until one morning when I glanced out of the window just as the top of a ladder appeared out of the hole. A succession of dogs then scrambled out of the hole – dozens of them – with Okami being the last to emerge. They were all filthy dirty but extremely pleased to be back above ground. There was much barking with delight and wagging of tails.

The something else appeared out of the hole. It was a human head, closely followed by the rest of the human. He had a broad grin on his face and was carrying a crate of Foster’s.

“G’day!” he said. “Anyone fancy a tinny?”

 © John Welford