I'd been in this particular meadow before. During my lap around the perimeter, I spotted a freshly turned patch of earth in the center. I hopped over to investigate and because a mound of dirt was the perfect place to cool off after running and jumping, I threw myself on top. A tantalizing scent wafted from deep within the soil. Dogs will know that tantalizing means the dirt smelled delicious. The odor was human except not like any person I had ever sniffed before. It smelled sour with fear and a lot like dirt. I turned an ear to listen for Einstein. There were lots of angry squirrels, a few birds, an irritated rabbit and--
"Meeeeat Head! Meeeeat Head! STUPID DOG, I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!"
Humans stink, especially after they shower. Einstein doesn’t shower as often as most humans, but I can always smell him from afar unless the wind is blowing the wrong direction, which it was. Unable to detect my human, I was left with one option: investigate the best smell ever! I pressed my nose close to the ground, breathing deep that special aroma.
"Oooooh!" I sneezed the dirt out of my nose. Smells like that were once in a lifetime, I tell you. I sniffed again. "Double, oh my paw!"
"Meat Head, you come on now or I'm going to leave you!"
Ouch. On one paw, I didn't want to be left behind and the owl had said not to dig. On the other paw, I knew the way home. And what if the thing under the dirt was dangerous? Could I, in good conscience, leave that thing buried? No! Only a bad dog would have left that hole filled in. I even made up a little song while I worked. It went like this:
To dig or not to dig?
What a stupid question.
I dug happily, front paws to pulling the earth from the hole and back legs kicking the soil onto the grass.
"Hey! That's my dinner," a deer shouted.
"You're welcome," I barked.
"I mean the grass, not the dirt, you idiot," he said. "Hey, don't kick that in my face or I'll give you an antler in the--
Einstein crashed to the forest floor. The tweet-tweet of terrified baby birds and chatter of traumatized woodland creatures filled the air.
"Ah! It might be a lion." The buck shrieked as he bounded across the clearing into the woods.
"In Ohio? Are you serious?" I barked after him.
I didn't think that Einstein would spot me. Finding one dog in the woods can be like finding a needle in a haystack. Einstein has a hard time locating his car keys which are a lot bigger than a needle (especially after Mrs. Angleton attached a block of wood to them.) I returned my attention to the hole. It was about a foot deep, and the aroma permeating the air smelled extra awesome. I jumped in and dug some more, tail wagging like an airplane propeller.
Meat Head the Worst Dog in the World will be posted here in easy to read increments. Read for oldest to newest if you haven't been following along.
Can't Wait to find out what happens next?