It was Vern’s idea. He explained that, disastrous consequences aside, Sparky’s attempt to unleash his inner wolf had actually succeeded. When all was said and done—when the tow truck had left and the pizzas were paid for and the neighborhood’s electricity had been restored—there was no denying that our pal had displayed characteristics empirically consistent with those of a wild animal. “Perhaps,” said Vern, as his old eyes tracked the flight pattern of a local crow, “that same commitment can be channeled into something less destructive.” That got me thinking. (Newsflash puppies: Try it sometime.) If Sparky had misunderstood his way into doing something bad, maybe it was possible for him to misunderstand his way into doing something good. I walked across the backyard and sat in front of the sliding glass door to let Mrs. Baxter know I was ready to come inside. She opened it and told me that if I wanted to see Sparky that was okay but that he wasn’t allowed out of his kennel for the time being. I nodded, solemnly, and went to see my pal. “Hi buddy,” said Sparky, “how’s Vern? Tell him I can’t come outside for a little while but that I have big plans for those crows.” Don’t get me started. I assured Sparky the backyard was fine and that, speaking of Vern, we had important news. Sparky sprang up in the kennel. His aft section smacked against the plastic sides uncontrollably. That’s when I explained that it had come to our attention that Sparky, believe it or not, was being considered for possible entry into the elite and highly prestigious International League of Exceptionally Well Behaved Dachshunds. Which reminds me of the time I made up a completely fictitious organization in hopes of bringing out the best in Sparky to thereby prevent Mrs. Baxter from making any hasty decisions regarding his relocation.