I actually buried a large dog in the mountain canyon five miles south of Deckers, Colorado (72 miles northeast of Monarch Pass, off the route to Denver). The dog was beloved by everyone, so we did it at night, after the young guests of the summer camp had gone to sleep. It took three of us almost six hours to get a thirty inch deep hole large enough to respectfully lay the deceased. The "soil" of The Colorado Rockies is primarily heavy gravel mixed with small boulders, overlaid with about four to eight inches of humus from decomposed leaves, twigs, pine needles or what-have-you. Shovels and picks bounce off. We finally were able to make some progress with a World War II surplus Army "mattock" tool that someone dug out of their automobile trunk. I was the strongest and had the most stamina, so I did most of the actual digging and the others would relieve me while I drank some water and walked off the muscle fatigue cramps. It was one of the most physically challenging events of my lifetime. I remember actually praying that I would finish by daylight. IMO