Free The Nose Knows by Holly L. Lewitas

garbage can under the sink. Mom forgot about them.
    All night, Bobby tried to get that cabinet door open. Unfortunately for him, Mom had put a baby lock on it after his last attempt. Bobby finally had to admit defeat.
    The next morning, the whole kitchen stank. We all thought the aroma was wonderful. Mom did not. Bobby watched her wash the garbage can and smell it. Then she washed it again. It was not until after the third washing that she was satisfied it was clean. Then she attacked the air with the Lysol can. Thank God for the critter door. We all fled outside before we were asphyxiated! Bobby talked for days about the extraordinary lengths a human would go to get rid of that smell.
    We all knew the story, but he was the one that came up with the answer to our current problem. He was proud of himself when he explained his idea to all of us. I admit, he had every right to brag. He’d come up with a simple but ingenious way to get the ring off of Jacob’s hand for good.
    Every dog’s human knows how much we love to roll in stinky stuff. It drives you crazy! To us, the more stink, the greater the fun. When another critter leaves behind something that stinks, we must make every effort to put our own scent over it. It is a territorial thing that’s been going on for centuries. That’s the reason I’m compelled to pee where another dog has left his calling card. Then in the blink of an eye, that dog’s territory is now mine. Most of the time peeing will suffice. However, every now and then, a smell comes along that must be rolled in. Dead fish is one of them. It’s a dream come true.
    When I told Quincy the plan, he agreed it sounded perfect. He said, “Hey, tell Bobby that he is pretty darn clever, for a cat!” Of course, when I repeated the compliment to Bobby, I left off the last three words. I’m not foolhardy.
    Now we needed to find one stinky fish. We knew the big lake could provide us with what we needed. It was smelt season and the aromas wafting in from the beach were telling us that there were already a bunch of dead fish on the shore.
    But stage one was harder to accomplish than we thought. Despite our efforts, our humans wouldn’t take us to the beach. Maybe smelly smelt season didn’t hold the same appeal for them. We gave up trying. The pond in the park would have to suffice. There was always someone fishing in the pond and eventually we’d get our fish.
    In was another week before we saw a potential target. An old guy was fishing. For this particular caper, an old person was the best. Why? Well, for one thing, old people can’t run fast. Moreover, old folks usually don’t sweat the little stuff. They’re more apt to believe one can always catch more fish. Younger people tend to take life too seriously. When we spotted this guy, the timing was great. He’d just caught a medium-size fish and had removed the hook (a very important detail). When he plunked the fish into a bucket of water, we ran straight for him. To the casual observer we were just two dogs running in the park. But we had our target in sight.
    On the first run, we ran right past the bucket. It had to look like an accident. After we passed the bucket, we continued for another twenty feet and then circled back. As planned, Quincy moved ahead of me into the lead position. I stayed close to his heels. Just before he reached the bucket, I snuck under his back legs and made him stumble. He fell against the bucket. I yelped. Neither of us was hurt. It only looked like I had caused Quincy to fall. In fact, he’d initiated the perfect stumble step at just the right time. The bucket fell over, the fish fell out, and water splashed everywhere. The man jumped back so he wouldn’t get wet. Quincy bounced up to the man, gave his hand a lick, snatched up the fish, and ran off with it. Of course, the man tried to grab Quincy. We were counting on the fact that it is virtually impossible to catch a fast-moving sleek, shorthaired Labrador.
    The man