Something about Mr. Fratelli’s car accident, the power outage and Sparky eating one or two pizzas that weren’t technically his had inspired Mrs. Baxter to, suddenly, consider relocating my pal to a more rural environment. Newsflash puppies: things are hardly ever what they seem. At first, when I relayed the rumor, Sparky was thrilled. “The big show! When do we leave?” he asked. Don’t get me started. I explained that I didn’t think that that’s what Mrs. Baxter meant””that she might be talking about sending him away, all by himself, to learn about agriculture. “That’ll never work,” Sparky said. “We’re a team.” I couldn’t argue with that and decided to locate Vern for advice and instruction. We went to the hole in the fence and asked my neighbor what he thought. “This isn’t good,” said Vern, “farms are euphemisms.” Sparky thought euphemisms sounded delicious and asked if he could have his with extra hot sauce. Don’t get me started. I knew better and began thinking about how to make Mrs. Baxter realize that Sparky was utterly, absolutely and completely essential to our organization. Which reminds me of the time that Vern and I convinced Sparky, for his own good, that he wasn’t a dog anymore but instead a four-legged butler robot.