By Butch, the Bomb-Sniffing German Shepherd

Horray! I love coming to this place! There are never any bombs and always stuff to eat. I love eating! One time, I was— hold on. What am I doing here again? Oh, right. Bombs. Gotta find bombs. But I don’t smell any. Maybe if I pretend that I’m onto something I will still get a treat at the end. Oh boy, I sure hope I get a treat! I loves treats… wait. I smell something… Nope, Officer Patrick just farted again. He better not blame this one on me too.
I think we have something here. Yes we do! Down the hall! Better run!!! I WAS RIGHT! It’s an empty Gatorade bottle! Jackpot. I am such a good boy. Dang it, they wanted bombs. I forgot.
Well that was some hard-hitting police work. I better take a break and chase my own tail for a while. I… almost… got… ouch! Who bit me?! Okay. No time to figure that one out. I need to find some bombs. I think there is a half-eaten mozzarella stick on the other side of the school. I better run to get it like it is a bomb.
Got it! No, I will not spit it out! I found it! Get your own! Oh I see how it is. Well we’ll how you like it when I’m mad at you.
I forgive you! You’re my best friend. Let’s never fight again.
Is that a ticking noise I hear? I think it is. What am I supposed to do again? We trained for this. Ticking noise means… play dead? That doesn’t sound right. I got it! Ticking noise means bomb and bomb means treat. Run to the treat! Run to the treat! Run to the— drippy faucet. Ooo! Some gum! No, I will not spit it out.

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