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.

Foul play.