What goes on in that little puppy head of yours, Angus? We shall soon find out

Angus, you are soooo busted. I found out today that you do not bark when you walk with Mary the Magic Dogwalker.  Nor do you roughhouse with Rosie, jumping on her head, pulling her leash, acting absolutely god-awful-obnoxious. No, you walk nicely, goddamn you.

Mary brought you past a school where children were streaming out the doors, chatting, heading toward cars and buses, and you were interested but you did not bark. She brought you up to a woman with a three-year-old toddler, and you did not bark but allowed yourself to be petted.

This is the same day when, on the morning walk with me, you barked all the way across the street and up to a woman waiting for a bus. (A woman who declined to pet you, even after I made you sit. This socialization business is not easy.)

But why bark when you're with me and not when you're with Mary?

What is in that head of yours? What kind of blood courses through those puppy veins?

We are about to find out.

Because we are checking your DNA.

We ordered the kit--I think it's the same kit we used years ago on Rosie and Riley, the one that told us that Riley was mostly border collie, and that Rosie was pure Lab on one side and mostly harrier on the other.

It arrived on Saturday, and we did the mouth scraping as well as we could--Angus kept chomping down on the little stick, just like Riley did years ago, and I have no idea if I got any DNA off him or not--and then we set them out to dry.

And then we put them in the special pouch inside the special box and walked to the mailbox and dropped it all in. And in a few weeks, we shall see what that crazy Angus is made of.  Part border collie, part Lab, and part bark?