This is Snibby, my parents’ Cairn terrier. I say my parents’ dog, because by the time I was born she was getting on and died when I was still small, so I don’t remember her well.
However, my parents loved her dearly and would tell stories about her. They were living in a flat and had no garden. It was after the war and times were still hard. On the rare occasion that Snibby had a bone she obviously couldn’t bury it in the garden. But sometimes she would want to put it aside for later. So she would move it to beside a wall and find things to drape over it. On one occasion she buried it in my parents’ bed which, as luck would have it, their visiting friends were sleeping in.