2 Murder Most Fowl

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Authors: Morgana Best
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and then say, “Stay,” and walk backward away from the dog. To make the dog come, we had to say “Come,” and then fling out our arms out in a Y position. After about the third go, Sandy understood what I wanted.
    Denise was pleased. “This will be the last exercise for the day. We will do the Stay off leash.” She had us all line up our dogs in a row, and then repeat the process, this time dropping the leash.
    I was a little nervous at first, but Sandy did not move a muscle.
    “Now,” Denise said, “all of you say, ‘Come,’ and put your arms out in the Y position.”
    I gave the signal, and said “Come,” loudly. To my relief Sandy immediately stood up. Unfortunately, she broke into a run, and even worse, when she reached me, she ran straight past me. I moved my arms from the Y position to the Grab For Leash position, but the leash slipped out of my hands.
    Sandy continued running down to the swamp, chasing a flock of squawking starlings. I ran after her, but she was too fast for me. I hoped she would stop when she reached the swamp, but no such luck. Sandy launched herself straight into the muddy swamp. Mud and birds flew everywhere.
    Mr. Buttons appeared beside me. “Sibyl, quick, if you run over there to the right, the creek narrows and you can jump across it. If Sandy swims directly across the swamp, you should be able to catch her when she emerges.”
    I thanked Mr. Buttons and took off at a sprint, until I reached the place where the creek narrowed, all the while hoping that the reeds in the swamp would slow Sandy down. I stopped and judged the distance. The creek was indeed narrow here, but I wouldn’t be able to jump clean across. Thankfully, there were rocks on one side.
    I gingerly made my way across the rocks, but when I was almost across, my foot slipped and I fell into the creek. I threw my arms out to save myself. Fortunately, my landing was soft, but that was only because the mud was deep. I struggled to my feet, and wiped the mud out of my eyes. I dragged myself up onto the bank and realized I only had one shoe on. I looked around for the other shoe, but it had vanished in the mud.
    I looked up and saw that a crowd of owners and their dogs had gathered on the other side of the swamp. To my embarrassment, Blake was there, his jaw hanging open. I must have looked a sight, encased in mud as I was. I hobbled along until I caught sight of Sandy, likewise covered in mud, splashing around happily in the swamp.
    I called her and she looked up, but she looked in the other direction. I figured she thought I was calling her from the other side of the swamp. Sandy accelerated out of the swamp straight at the crowd of onlookers.
    What happened next seemed to me to happen in slow motion. Sandy, covered in thick mud from head to toe, launched herself out of the swamp and ran straight at Mr. Buttons, Mr. Buttons who could not bear to see a speck of dust, Mr. Buttons who was OCD about cleanliness.
    Mr. Buttons threw his arms up in horror. Sandy, clearly mistaking that for the Come signal, launched herself straight at him. He went flying backward, and Sandy threw herself on top of him, and licked his ears.
    I hurried back across the narrow part of the swamp, wading directly through the mud this time, and made my way straight to Mr. Buttons as fast I could while wearing one shoe.
    Denise had pulled Sandy off Mr. Buttons and was explaining to him that all Labradors love swimming.
    Mr. Buttons did not appear to care: he was not moving, and his eyes were staring at the sky.
    I hurried to him. “Blake, is he okay?”
    Blake and his Chihuahua both looked shocked. Blake shrugged and helped Mr. Buttons to his feet.
    Mr. Buttons did not say a word, until we reached my pet grooming van, where he climbed in the back section. I thought he was simply being considerate, trying to avoid putting mud on my seat, and was about to tell him that I could cover the seats with towels from the van, when I saw that he had climbed into

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