Downer

I prefer it to deeper, all you get when you push the fork in. I thought I'd need a jackhammer but my own torque was enough to bury the tines and lift and reach downer barehanded pulling at roots. A hairy black thing, size of a hair-do, crossed the alley and yapped. Between stoops I thought of this mutt as Spencer and its sidekick, as it turned out (a second volley of yap), as Kate. The two of them put on quite the show. If I had a pickle for every second I heard them my jars would be full.