A funny thing has happened around here. Campaign posters are EVERYWHERE. Seems there is an election coming up. I am pretty sure that I was elected President-for-Life, so I am not worried about that. But it turns out being President is not as much work as I thought it would be. Apparently I have been doing a very good job because nobody has asked me to do anything.
AnyLoo, I have some free time on my paws. And these campaign posters gave me an idea. See, we are electing a new coroner. What is a coroner? Well, I didn't know what it was either, so I went to the Internet's most reliable source of information: (no, not deepthoughts.ourmutts.com but that's a pretty good guess.) Wikipedia. Here's what I learned: "A coroner or forensics examiner is an official chiefly responsible for investigating deaths, particularly some of those happening under unusual circumstances, and determining the cause of death." What a great job!! I love dead things. So I have been boning up (get it? Dead things...bones? Hah! I slay me!) and practicing so that I can run for coroner.
I found a flattened road squirrel a couple of weeks ago and tried to take it home for closer inspection, but the Boss Man wouldn't let me. He is always squelching my good ideas. So I visited my flat friend (I called him Plato) for two weeks straight. I learned a lot. I determined his cause of death to be Accidental. I am pretty sure that squirrels can't die that flat any other way. I'm very pleased with my progress and pretty sure I'm a shoo-in for coroner. But if you know me, you know that I never stop with Good Enough. I strive for Too Much or at least More Than I Really Needed. So when I found a dead bird on my walk this week I knew I had to investigate. No, it's not my job (not yet, anyway). But I want to be the best coroner that the Tri-Cities has ever elected, so I check him out for free. Plus I really like birds.
This was a tougher one. Not all of the birdie bits were still there for my inspection. Accident? Natural causes and post-mortem dismemberment? I wracked my Whigle brain. I sniffed. I would have tasted, too, if SOMEONE would let me (Boss Buzzkill). Finally I had it. I was sure. I knew what had happened to this bird.