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--With 11 alive, it takes 6 to lynch.

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--With 11 alive, it takes 6 to lynch.

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At that time, the grass in the backyard had grown up to maybe five inches. Nothing happened.

Two weeks later, the grass in the backyard had grown up to eight inches, and Stahp decided to do something about it.

Three days and one more inch later, Sixty was kept inside to behold the sight of a large machine entering the backyard. Even from behind the walls and windows, it made a noise so loud that the puppy's ears hurt a little. Stahp was on top of the contraption, driving it around to the front of the porch, and then--the blasting drone of the machine got even louder.

Sixty climbed on the couch and end table to reach the windowsill, where it craned its furry little head to watch as the big red machine kept going. The sight the puppy beheld was amazing! Where the machine had been, the grass was simply - gone. Meanwhile, it was shooting detritus at high speed off to the right, positively coating the porch and water bowl with something that looked rather disgusting. Sixty was a little glum - Stahp was cutting the grass too short, in its opinion.

Twenty minutes passed, and Stahp had driven the monstrosity in circles several times, and the obnoxious noise hadn't abated yet. Sixty was at this point not just glum, but bored. The puppy laid down as flat as it could and put its head between its forepaws, giving Stahp's general direction a clear "are you done yet" indication. About ten seconds later, a loud caused a startled Sixty to raise its head suddenly just in time to watch a flying object blitz through the air directly toward it. Sixty fell backward just as if the object hadn't missed its nose by an inch thanks to the screen over the window, rolling onto the table behind it and upsetting a cup of milk as it flailed out of control. The punishment for that was going to be rather stiff.

The next day, Sixty went out into the wet, freshly mowed grass and saw the remains of one of its toys. Sixty could more easily hold it in its mouth, and hop along with the little rubber cup in its mouth just fine, but it didn't roll, it didn't do much when nose-nudged, and... Well, it was time to move on.

Sixty stared down its quarry from two feet away. Crouched down to just a centimeter above the ground, the puppy was the very image of potential energy, a wolf waiting to strike. Sixty's eyes never left its target, a victim who had no idea what savagery awaited it.

On some invisible trigger, Sixty sprung forward in a neat arcing motion, landing securely on its prey and clamping its jaws deep into its fluffy skin. Sixty ripped and tore at the soft fabric of its unlucky victim's belly, holding it down with its paws while it pulled its teeth upward.

Ultimately the consummate predator (literally the alpha dog) of the backyard had its way as the plushie finally burst open, bending spinelessly backward as it gave way to the murderous will of the death puppy. In triumph, Sixty began running all around the backyard, shaking its head viciously the whole way and leaving a trail of foamy guts strewn aside.

The back door opened, and Sixty made a wide turn toward Stahp, casually tossing the once-plush carcass aside as it braced itself for huge quantities of petting. What Sixty got instead was yelled at in a loud voice. The poor puppy didn't even understand what it did wrong this time! and Stahp's tirade wasn't really helping; it sounded something like RAGE RAGE SIXTY RAGE SIXTY RAGE DOG. As Stahp began to walk a long, slow round around the back yard putting as many of the stray pieces of fluff into a plastic bag as he could, Sixty trotted along behind (at a safe distance) to see if Stahp would think about making amends, but the very tired look on his face suggested that might not happen for a while.

--With 9 alive, it takes 5 to lynch.

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