Ungus got into trouble. Again. We had all been in the back yard playing 'fetch'. Dad and I were ready to go inside, but Ungus wanted to stay out a little longer. By himself. He's usually pretty good. He only cries when he thinks someone needs to come and rescue him - by rescue, he means 'get a treat'. He does that because he gets a treat at the back door for coming straight inside like a good dog. Some times he runs right back out so he can run in again and try to snooker another treat. Sometimes it even works, if he times it right. Mom is such a sucker for a cute face.
We all work in a big office in our house. There is a 'picture window' there. I don't know what the picture is. It just a window that lets us look outside into the back yard where Ungus and I play. I don't think Ungus quite has it figured out, yet, that the yard we see looking out the window is the same yard we play in. He'll catch on someday.
So, Ungus is out in the yard. Mom looks at him through the window and asks Dad, "What's he chewing on?" Dad didn't look up from his work, and said, "I don't know." Mom said, "Well, look! It's a dead bird or something!" We all looked out the window. Ungus had some brown lumpy crooked thing he was gnawing on. "It's a stick," Dad says. "No, it's a dead bird - euuuu!" Mom knocks on the window; Gus looks up and smiles and just keeps on chewing. Dad takes off for the back yard and Mom and I watch form the window. Dad gets out there and takes the thing away from Ungus using six gloves and one finger and a thumb, and I can clearly hear him say, "NO!"
It used to be a squirrel. I say used to be, cause it wasn't in that body, anymore. Mom calls it 'dead.' Ungus was chewing a dead squirrel - the lucky sap - how did he find it and I didn't - dead squirrels make great chewing? OH! UH AHH - ER Uh, I mean, Bad Ungus! I would never do that! We go outside. Ungus is still trying to get Dad to give him back the squirrel. I told him, Mom and Dad don't want us to chew on dead things, cause there may be something "wrong" with them. "Wrong how?" he asks. I didn't know. Mom says they could make us sick. Ungus asked, "How can anything that smells that good make us sick? And what do you mean, it's 'dead'?" I tried to explain to him, but I don't really understand it myself. Animals are there, and then they are not. Mom says they wait for us on the "other side," wherever that is. I bet it's pretty crowded there. We buried the dead squirrel in the rose garden. Dad used a shovel instead of letting me dig the hole. That is where Mom buries all the critters that have moved on. Some day, you won't be able to dig out there without hitting a skeleton, but Mom thinks they need a "proper burial." Ungus asked me if they would put him in the rose garden. I didn't know, so I just said "You're not dead." That seemed to satisfy him. But it kind of made me wonder.