West Highland Terrier Dierks used to be white.Now that the snow has melted, his yard is a veritable swamp. Damp layers of twigs, matted leaves, and disintegrating mulch alternate with several months worth of previously frozen dog poop.
Dierks is not at all appalled by the bayou his yard has become.
Instead, he careens out the sliding glass doors, happily chases a squirrel up a tree, barking all the while. Then, tail wagging, nose pointing the way, he inspects every inch of the ground. He chooses an especially slimy spot and begins to dig.
Head down, paws scooping and tossing, scooping and tossing. Occasionally, he bites into a clod, chews thoughtfully, and spits it out.
Inside, his owner despairs “I have to bathe him constantly. AND wash his mouth out, too! Its disgusting! Wait until you see the mud he drags in!”
Here is the definition of a terrier:
“any of several breeds of usually small dogs, used originally to pursue game and drive it out of its hole or burrow.”
In Dierks mind, he is doing what his breed genetics tell him to do.
Instead of trying to convince him not to dig, we acknowledged his drive and determination, and redirected his efforts.
An old sandbox, placed under a shady tree, filled with (clean) sand, plastic dog toys and a few biscuits, is an acceptable alternative to Dierks, and his owner.