I'm on a crowded bus, like a greyhound, with my dogs. Charlie is sort of jumping around and the bus driver scolds him sharply - like "Charlie! No!", just exactly like I would say. Then the bus driver turns to me and starts sort of lecturing, explaining exactly how to talk to dogs, like he's the expert and we all need some training.

"Are you talking to me?" I ask. "Because I wasn't listening. I know how to talk to my dogs, in fact the way you just talked to Charlie was exactly the way I would have done it." He understands, and goes back to driving the bus.

The bus stops, and we get off at a place like a farm. The dogs' leashes are apparently in the car, which is across the field. Then I have to wait for an hour, but I figured I could walk them around with the leashes. I just have to get to the car.

I direct the dogs verbally, and they start to follow, but quickly get distracted and run into this barn, where they find a family of newborn baby squirrels, which somebody is raising for pets, and of course, immediately start eating them in spite of my commanding them to stop. I know Sydney eats at least one, and I don't know how many are missing. Scolding doesn't help, and finally I grab them both and carry them away, finding some method of carrying them both under my arm, which is difficult, but possible.

Back out in the field, they really start squirming, and I can't hang onto them. Sydney escapes and runs into the field, where she is immediately downed by some sniper, firing a tranquilizer dart from some distant barn. Charlie, still under my arm, has grown much larger, and seems to be getting stiff, as though dead. I don't think I can carry them both now.