When I arrrived home yesterday, after a lovely day spent Frenchy's shopping, the shed caught my eye. "Oh," I thought. "Adam must have been working on something around the shed." But as I got closer to said shed, I saw that the upturned soil was not the work of human hands, but that of a neighbourhood dog. Cats often go under our shed. Dog sees cat; dog chases cat; cat runs under shed; stupid dog digs up around two full sides of shed to get to cat. Argh, what a mess!
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