My Visit to An Archaeology Dig

The Owner has developed a keen interest (as he tells everyone who is daft enough to listen) in archaeology. I have no real understanding of what archaeology is except that lots of strange hoomuns rush around in fields digging holes and unearthing things that someone else had broken and thrown away many years ago. They then rush around and get very excited and put the bits of rubbish in plastic bags and take them off somewhere. I assume they must be taking them to the recycling centre and disposing of them properly. This is what The Owner says he does with his stuff when anyone can hear him talking as he says it is his civic duty. I know that he often digs a hole and just buries his rubbish, presumably so that someone else, presumably an archaeologist hoomun, can then dig them all up again in years to come and get very excited about his discarded Shiphams fish paste jars. So I can see how this all works, I just don't see why. Well, yesterday a fine opportunity arose to satisfy my curiosity and desire to understand much of the hoomun condition. The Owner got in the car, I like cars, and announced to the world that we were going on an archaeology dig. It sounded impressive! When we got there The Owner joined in with all the other Archaeologist Hoomuns in getting very excited about some broken old pot, so I went on a quick patrol of the perimeter. Now I have noticed in the past that they get particularly excited when they find some old bones and they all get put in bags too and taken away, presumably to make into a nice soup for their supper when they get home. Now the bones I can understand the need to bury them for a while first, as they do improve with age. But in the course of my explorations I happened upon a hole in the ground and at the bottom of the hole was bones... loads of bones!! So I thought I would try and join in with the excitement and take one back to the Archaeologist Hoomuns tent for them. As I approached with the bone in my mouth an Archaeology Lady Hoomun who had breath that would descale a kettle at a thousand yards got very animated and started shouting "It's the Femur! It's the Femur!" Well my name isn't Femur, that I am aware. The Owner has never called me that anyway; he has called me many things but never Femur. She rushed over and snatched the bone from my jaws! Well there was no need to get possessive over it! There are many more in that hole over there, I thought, so I went to get another one. The Owner was instructed to go and "Get 'That Dog! and put it somewhere where it can't cause trouble". That Dog?!?! Expect repercussions! So I was put back in the car where I apparently can't cause any more trouble. Can't I? I wouldn't want to put too much money on that!