“It’s okay, pal, you did good. Treat yourself, and don’t go easy on this bastard. Go for it!” Jack yelled. Cyrus released Meadows’s bloody ankle, his big head moving higher and higher, and then the only sound to be heard was Meadows’s shrill mewling howl of pain. No one cared enough to help the man or to call off Cyrus, who was in his glory.

Jack looked over at Dennis and instructed, “Help Mr. Hershel and clean this up. Harry, call Snowden and tell him we need an extraction like now. Not when it gets dark. Don’t worry about Meadows. Cyrus can stay in that position for hours. He’s loving every minute of this. I gotta call Little Jack back now.”

One minute into the conversation with his one and only godchild told Jack he had nothing to worry about and no dire crisis was invading LJ’s summer camp experience.

“Slow down, slow down. Let me make sure I have this right. The swim meet for tomorrow has been canceled till next week, and I do not have to make the trip.” Thank God, Jack thought, because I completely forgot about it.

“Because the girls, with Emily as the ringleader, made you guys some brownies laced with ex-lax. Even the counselors are . . . indisposed. What do you mean this means the girls win the meet by default? Well, that’s not fair. Okay, okay, I’ll talk to the boys and see if we can come up with something to score a win for you guys next week. Yeah, yeah, I promise, LJ. I know how hard it is to lie in bed, then have to get up to run to the latrine. I’m sure you are exhausted. You’ll get over it. Okay, okay, if you gotta go again, then go! Call me tomorrow to let me know how it’s going. Love ya, kid.”

Dennis was laughing so hard, Harry had to clap him on the back. “I can’t believe kids still do that at camp. Boy, do I ever remember when that happened to me. And it’s all because of the swim meet with the boys versus the girls.” Then he sobered and said, “Damn, hearing all that makes me feel old.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Jack called off Cyrus, who immediately trotted over to the elderly Hershel to be praised and petted.

“You just convinced me, big fella. I am definitely gonna get me a dog. I know he or she won’t be anything like you, but maybe close.” Cyrus woofed twice. Anything is possible, just not probable, the big dog thought before he lay down, crossed his paws, and went to sleep.

“We need to get this guy tied up in a nice tight bundle. Do you have any rope or twine, anything to hogtie him with, Mr. Hershel?”

“Got some fishing line, but that’s about it.”