Part 3

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.