Arizona Adventure: Get the Moe*

*When I tell Conker to get something, I normally shorten the name or say it stupidly.  In the ground-critter's case, it was called a moe instead of mole, I don't think it was actually a mole though.

One of the adventures Conker and I had in Buckeye Arizona took place on the portion of undestroyed undeveloped desert between the large complex of neighborhoods and the busy I-10.  The adventure was incredibly fun and stimulating for Conker, because it involved a potential snack.


I spied a small critter sitting atop a hole in the ground not too far from our current position.  I think it was a ground squirrel, but due to the population of moles at the dog park I decided to call it one since Conker understood that a mole meant an opportunity to dig.  I turn, look at Conker and say, "Lets git d' moe!" in a stupid voice. Conker's ears perk at the words, especially the last, and he waits for me to point out the moe's location.  Dead ahead, I motion with my arm.  His gaze follows and Conker spots the moe as it flashes into it's den.

That brief glance was enough.  He was at the end of the leash in a split second, pulling hard to reach the hidden critter.  As we neared it's den I could see Conker grow more and more excited.  He promptly stuck his nose into the den and inhaled deeply when he was close enough so to do.

Conker did not need to be told what to do.  He began to scratch at the entrance to the den, first making smaller gouges in the soft earth then progressively harder and deeper scratches.  Soon he was digging full-force in an attempt to unearth the moe.

"Where's the moe?"  I ask in an excited tone. Conker shoves his muzzle into the hole up to his eyes.  I can hear him sniffing hard, searching in the darkness for the small snack.  "Git dat moe Conker!"  I cheer as he resumes digging.  A small pile of dirt had begun to appear between his legs.

After a short while Conker started to get discouraged.  The moe had not shown itself and he appeared to be getting bored of digging.  "You haven't found the moe yet!"  I say as Conker examines the exterior of the somewhat-collapsed den, his small black nose working hard to find a fresh scent.

That was enough to get him started again.  He attacked the entrance with a newfound fury, digging quickly and sloppily in hopes of finding the critter quick.  "Git it! Git it, Conker!"  I say, egging him on as soft dirt flies in all directions.  Then, as if he willed it, the moe appeared, but it was in the wrong hole!

Conker chagred the ground-thing but didn't seem to notice the rather difficult bush in his way.  No matter, he's a Shiba! That bush will bend to his will if he wishes it so.
And that's what it did. Conker shoved his way through the bush and almost got the moe but it dashed back into the hidden den entrance beneath the bush's roots.

 Conker returned to the first entrance and continued excavation.  He dug faster and harder and began to bury my feet with the interior of the moe's den.  He was determined to catch it now that it had the gall to openly mock him like that. "You gonna let it escape, Conker?  Git d' moe!  Git it!"  I say.

The entrance was no longer a muzzle-sized hole in the ground.  It was a crater big enough for Conker to fit most of his front half into.  He paused to shove his face in deep and inhale many times, his nose searching for the moe that had probably escaped through a different tunnel by now.

Despite his apparent defeat, Conker continued to dig.  He cleared out a hole slightly larger than a cubic foot and made a heap of dirt several inches high and two feet wide.  If he wanted he could have curled up into the hole.
But no moe appeared.  It was lucky, this time, that Conker is not that great of a digger.

Over the course of the rest of the week, every time we would go out into the undeveloped desert, Conker would go back to the hole and snuff around for the moe.  It was never there, and had probably wised up and moved to a new location where Conker could not harass it by destroying it's front door.