Go to the kitchen to try to put out the fire.

You head towards the kitchen and see that someone's managed to let a giant flightless bird catch fire in the large metal cooking box with the trap door on it. From the odour — which smells mighty appetizing — it appears to be pheasant, most likely turkey. Your nose usually isn't wrong when it comes to this kind of thing. Or anything else, for that matter.

Having no hands and lacking opposable thumbs, putting out a fire is definitely a tall task for someone of the canine variety, such as yourself.

Seeing the fire starting to spread throughout the kitchen, you put on a determined air and start jumping beneath the fire putter-outer device on the wall. You know what it does because you watched Dad put out a fire in the backyard-cooker-thinger one time with it. You still wonder why he gave you all that steak, even though it tasted mildly of charcoal and was covered in soapy foam.

Still, that was a whole lot of steak. Mmmm. You catch yourself drifting off into reverie and force yourself back to reality.

After several attempts, you managed to knock the godforsaken device from the wall. It hits the floor with a clang, and none too soon, as the fire getting periously to you, making its way along the cabinents towards your relatively safe spot on the tiled floor. You look at the cylindrical metal object and concentrate.

The End

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