The dog didn't do it!

One day my mother went outside and found a hole dug on the side of the house, in close proximity to where she had planted some flowers. The dog was tied outside to the nearby doghouse, so she scolded him and probably gave him a few whacks too. The next day, another digging, and repeat the process. Bad dog! Then a third hole, again the same location. My mother, frustrated at his disobedience, dragged the animal over to the site of the big dig so as to reinforce that he was never to do that again. Surprise! She found that the dog's chain did not reach that far, so he was innocent. There had to be another digger. The only other potential suspects were us three kids, so she asked us who had dug the hole. I was astonished at the question. We really never did anything wrong, and I had no idea who could possibly have done such a thing. She got three no's for answers. Finally, my mother put on her hat---serious business--and announced she was going up to see the judge: Judge Center lived upstreet in one of the big white houses there--maybe Overocker's. My stomach turned over, and I'm sure I was shaking, because I couldn't even imagine what was going to happen. Was somebody going to jail? Finally, as my mother was opening the kitchen door, Dorothy, in tears, confessed that she had dug the hole. I don't remember what her punishment was, probably just my mother's disapproval. I probably suffered more out of shock at the whole situation. Just in the last year, talking over old times, I asked Dorothy about it and why she had dug all those holes. She seemed bemused and a little pensive, and said she just felt like it. Now I understand.