We like to get our dogs, Tanzie (short for "tanzanite") and Hobo (short for "moron") all riled up, and then let them out the door, screaming "Get the squirrel! Get the squirrel! BITE the squirrel" or whatever.
The dogs get so excited they start baying and howling, the exercise is good for them. We have an acre, and an electric fence, so though the dogs can run around like nuts for a few minutes, barking at shadows, they aren't going anywhere.
Tonight, the older younger Munger had some friends over.
The UPS truck pulls up (as it does twice a day, this time of year), and I yell to my wife, "Brown is here!" since Brown is usually bringing something for her, either for her work as an attorney or some gift. (Yes, we call UPS "Brown." We didn't make it up).
So, just as the UPS is getting back into his truck, the dogs crowd up to the door, because they know what is coming.
And, I start shrieking, "Get the Brown man! Bite the Brown man!" The dogs howl, I open the door, and the dogs streak out to the road so they can bark at the truck as it goes around our property to the main road.
The dogs are really into it, so I continue: "GET HIM! BITE the BROWN man!"
I turn around, and my son and his two friends are peering down the stairs at me.
Not my proudest moment as a parent.