"Get back there!" Carter snapped at the dog, which continued to climb over the front seat and lick his face. He cringed as the dog's hair dropped from its body in mats and coated his freshly cleaned leather seats. The sooner he dumped this mutt, the better. Why did Pyle always have to fall for the ugly ones? Instead of rescuing a purebred collie, he had to save this cross-eyed hound. Maybe they shared a brain. He pulled to a stop at a red light in the center of town. Once again, the dog tried to crawl in his lap. He shoved it to the passenger's side with a huff. At that moment, the dog caught sight of a stray cat trotting down the sidewalk. With a yap, the dog lurched towards the open window.
"Hey! Wait!" Carter yelled, cringing at the sound of claws scraping the side of the car. The dog ignored him and instead leaped onto the sidewalk and took off after the cat, barking and howling in pursuit. Carter stared after the animals until they disappeared around the corner. The minute the light turned green, he spun a U-turn and headed straight back to the base.
"Good riddance," he mumbled. Maybe they didn't make it to the pound, but so what? Pyle would never know the difference. It wasn't like they'd ever run into that dog again, anyway.
Early the next morning, Carter stepped out of the duty hut and blasted away at his whistle.
"Come on you people! Get out here and line up on the double! Move it! Move it!"
As the men filed outside and lined up, he noticed the colonel standing several yards away watching him. Beside the colonel stood the same lieutenant who had chewed Carter out the day before. What would they be watching him for? Carter didn't like it, but he wasn't about to argue with the brass. Turning back to his men, he barked,
"Alright, you people, spruce up that line. Come on! Move it!"
Of course, Pyle had to raise his hand. Maybe the colonel didn't notice.
"What do you want, Pyle?"
"Sergeant, I was just wondering what you did with Grady when you went into town, yesterday."
Carter pressed himself close to Pyle so he could look intimidating and talk without being heard.
"What I did with that mutt is none of your business, Pyle. Now pipe down and don't say another word while you're in formation."
"You didn't take 'im to the pound, did you, Sergeant?"
"Pyle, I already said it's none of your business! Now shut up and pay attention!"
Gomer pouted but otherwise obeyed.
"Now listen up!" Carter continued.
"To start the day off…"
As Carter rattled off the agenda, Gomer heard a scratching down by his feet. He dropped his gaze to see Grady snuffling by his boots. He beamed in excitement.
"It's Grady! He's back! Sergeant, you didn't take 'im to the pound after all. Look at that!"
Carter lifted his gaze from the clipboard in his hand and turned pale at the sight of the dog.
"It can't be!" he gulped.
He glanced quickly in the colonel's direction to see both officers staring at him with crossed arms. Meanwhile, Grady thrashed his tail with glee and jumped on Gomer, placing both front paws on the private's shoulders.
"Pyle, what's that dog doing back here? How'd he get back on the base?" Carter demanded.
"Beats me, Sergeant. I guess he just likes us."
The officers were marching over. Neither looked very happy. Suddenly, the dog switched from friendly to hostile. With hackles raised and jaws snapping, it pointed its nose in the officers' direction.
"Pyle, grab that dog!" Carter yelled.
Gomer tried to wrap his arms around its neck, but without a rope, the dog slipped through his arms and charged towards the colonel and lieutenant. Carter could see his stripes fading with each bark.
"LOOK OUT, SIR!"