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.

Ungus got into trouble.         *pause*           *evil chuckle*     "he he he". 

There is a middle school near us. We, and a lot of other Moms and Dads, go there with their doggies to play. It has lots of cool grass and a big fence all around, so even if Ungus get up a good head of steam, he can't go too far without conking into a fence. Sometimes there are even kids there to play with us. Ungus gets really excited when he sees someone, either doggie or human. He wiggles all over and wants to go and greet them. We were walking over at the school yesterday. They have a "track" that humans like to run on. They just run around and around - they aren't even chasing a ball or a squirrel or anything - they just run around in a circle. Go figure. This morning there were three little girls running around in a circle. They saw us and said, "Oh, what a cute little Scotty puppy!" Ungus wiggled his way over to them and they made a big fuss over him. He was in doggie heaven with all their attention. So much so, when Dad called him back to be with us, Ungus didn't come. Oh, the sacrilege! I don't ever remember doing that! Dad tried several times to get Ungus to come back to us, but he wanted to play with the little girls and didn't come. Finally the little girls walked over to us and Ungus trotted happily along with them. They all gave me a nice pet and told me I was a good dog. I didn't get the "Oh, isn't he cute!" greeting. but they told me I was a good dog and a nice doggie, and I'll settle for that. Meanwhile, Dad clips the leash back onto Ungus. The little girls go back to their circle running and when Ungus turned to follow them, he found he was leashed up. He tried to struggle after them for a moment, then realized Dad had him good. He whined and sniveled, but Dad said, "NO! You didn't come when called, so you can't be loose, right now." Ungus hung his head and promised he would never do it again, but it didn't matter. He had to stay on the leash all the way home. I sort of felt sorry for the little guy, hanging his head and dragging his little feet; staying right with Dad by way of apology. This morning we went back to the school. There was a lady running in circles and she stopped to give Ungus attention when he wiggled his way over to her. Dad called him back. He looked at the lady then at Dad, and finally came slowly back over to us. The lady laughed and said that we were, "... good dogs," and ran off. Ungus watched her go, then looked at Dad. Dad bent over and told him he was a good dog to "come" Ungus got all wiggly and flopped over to get scratched, and we walked on with no leashes. Maybe he will learn the "good dog" stuff, OK, after all. And maybe tomorrow, he'll get in trouble again and I'll get to chuckle again.  He he he.