This July has been one of the hottest and driest that I can remember. After having the monsoon season in May, our ground, grass and trees have been watered faithfully to keep the “summer-green” alive. Except under the 60-year-old forsythia bushes, aka Growl Bushes, aka Dog Fort.

At the end of last summer, I closed off the entrance underneath the deck to the b’Aires because of the surprisingly large burrow they had dug. The entrance was actually terraced, it was about four-feet deep, and then a b’Aire double-wide burrow was built for lounging during hot days. It was in that very burrow that I would lose sight of Miss Molly, our 14-year-old foster queen, who would finally come up from the depths to shake, stretch and yawn after enjoying a cooling nap in the 90-degree weather. I was frantic when she disappeared, but immediately relieved when I touched her skin and fur to find that it was cool, extremely cool — but she did have the smell of deep earth about her. Both Cooper and Wilson spent hours creating their burrow, and while it was a masterpiece, I was worried that it could turn into a very dangerous situation should the earthen roof cave in while one was sleeping.

I have been watching this year for new signs of a new burrow. With the dryness of the earth, and being forbidden to go under the deck, the b’Aires started digging on one side of the large Growl Bush. Mind you, the diameter of this bush is well over six-feet, so there is a very large and shady area to enjoy. I’ve watched the bush growl and shake with fine dust floating up through the leaves. When an intruder has approached from the other side of the yard, I’ve watched as the b’Aires have charged out from underneath the bush, throwing the soft dirt in the air from scrambling legs pushing off into their hard gallop across the yard. While we may not live in Phoenix, we’ve had our own version of a Haboob slowly drift across the grass from one end of the yard to the other from the fast-charging b’Aires.

Each time I approached their new fort, I was chastised by either one or both of them for coming too close. One would dash out and grab my attention, while the other one’s head would part the branches and give me a stern look of, “What do you want, Lady? This is Dog Fort! No grrrrls allowed!” From a distance, I could hear the rumble of wrestling, watch the shaking of the branches, and hear the throwing of dirt against the branches and ground as more and more construction took place. Once tired, emerging would be two very dusty b’Aires, tongues panting with small clods of dirt stuck to their fur and around their gums. I swear both of them looked like Captain Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean with their beards looking as if earthworms were hanging off from their chin. But they were happy, exhausted, and once cleaned — they slept for hours on end. It is a b’Aires delight to play in Dog Fort!

Yesterday, I ventured on my hand and knees to check out their latest design. I was accompanied by both b’Aires who seemed extremely nervous with my presence in their fort. Wet (and dirty) noses were shoved into my ear for a quick and reassuring snurfle while I surveyed their artwork. While the burrow itself is smaller, only fitting one b’Aire at a time, it’s about three-feet deep, has a thick ceiling of about one foot of earth, and has been tunneled towards my neighbor’s yard. If they go one foot further, they will be under the fence and into ‘enemy territory.’ All of the soft dirt is piled up neatly around the crater, as if making a stylish rim. Again, the new hidey hole is terraced, so that they can easily scramble out of their fox hole when the enemy approaches from a neighboring yard.

All in all, not a bad summer for the hard-working b’Aires. 🙂 “Dog Fort to command, come in please. Two intruders approaching our territory from the West, sound the alarm!”