July 6, 2011
My sister and I are at our parents' house. We're trying to move the boat from the dock to the driveway via the neighbor's launch ramp. Joey is driving the truck with the trailer and there is a guy (who's a professional at loading boats onto trailers) guiding Joey as she backs up into the water.
The man tells Joey and I we have to dig up the Rhododendron bush next to where we park the boat. Joey starts to dig with one of those metal fence posts (green with a foot long (apx) white painted end) and she's just tearing up the ground. She gets snagged on a black plastic garbage bag and she kind of steps back quickly. Startled.
There is a dead dog in the bag. Badly decomposed. I look and there is nothing but bones and fur. Looks like a German Shepard.
I grab a shovel leaned up against the shed in the front yard. I have a selection of shapes and sizes to choose from but I grab a short, stubby shovel (one I loved using when I was younger).
I can't dig very well.
Then I wake up