#don's log

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Don's Log -- Entry #5

A thought just occurred to me.  What's the point of carryin' around these pickaxes?  We moles tunnel through the dirt with our paws.  Even when we find a rock in our way, we just dig around it!  It would take much longer to chip it away with a pickaxe.  I've been in this business for years, and I've never once used it, yet I never leave without it.  I'm startin' to think it has a lot more to do with appearances than actual utility.  Anyone would be more willing to listen to a lecture about the dangers of resettin' if the lecturer were brandishing a pickaxe, after all.

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Don's Log -- Entry #4

Sonny's taken all of the alerts today.  Something about making up for his tomfoolery yesterday.  Tad foolish of me to let him.  He's very passionate about his work, but with that temper of his, he'll soon be diggin' in his grave.  And who will he have to blame? His good ol' brother, Don.  Maybe I could convince him to take a vacation.

Aw, who am I kiddin'?  That boy wouldn't take a vacation if it meant double Bells and a free coffee pass.  Heck, he doesn't even get paid to be the groundhog, yet every year he dresses up in that suit of his and nearly freezes his whiskers off in front of the whole town to partake in some silly superstition.  I wouldn't dare say so to his face, but I think part of him enjoys it.

Well, except for the suit.  They make him wear that.

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Don's Log -- Entry #3

It seems I have misplaced one of the buttons on my favorite pair of overalls. It's not a big deal. I have several pairs of overalls. Yet... Booker came to ask about some items in the lost and found. Mistook me for Sonny, actually, poor dog. He lacks confidence in himself, but this town would be lost without him. Anyway, I wanted to ask him about the button, but it's just a button, right? And who in their right mind would go askin' about a button? Scratch that--who in their right mind would bring a button to the lost and found? I could probably just buy a new one at the Nooklings' store. Still, you gotta wonder where that old button is. I liked those overalls...

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Don's Log -- Entry #2

Today, February the 2nd, is Groundhog Day.

Groundhogs are not moles.  Moreover, moles are not groundhogs.  If I had to guess, I would say that back when this town was just getting started, Mayor Tortimer saw my brother and mistook him for one, and after a series of amusingly overlooked protests, he came to play the role of the burrowing rodent on this day.  I can't say for sure, as he doesn't like to talk about it.  But this means that, each and every year, my little bro gets a day where the town celebrates him.

The mayor's secretary even set up a face-cutout standee with him on it in the plaza.  There's another mole, too, but his is the face that's been...er, cut out, you see.  To top it all off, she's handing out models of my bro to the townsfolk...

Maybe I should take one home and give it to him as a souvenir?

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Don's Log -- Entry #1

Let me make one thing clear before I write anything else.

This is not a diary.

This is simply a log book, and each log may or may not pertain to events that go on with my brother, work, the animals and folk in town, and maybe whether or not the new barista managed my order well enough.  This is professional business, and will not, under any circumstances, contain my thoughts and feelings on more personal matters.

I will not begin each log with "dear diary," as you can see by the beginning of the log you are now reading.

What am I talking about?  The only person who'll be reading this is me.  Not because it will contain secrets about what goes on in my head--didn't I say this isn't a diary?--but because a mole's professional log is his own professional business.

The longer I go on, the more I feel I'm being defensive, so I'll cut it off right here for now.