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Priscilla the puppy was famous in her neighborhood for her incredibly detailed, organized toy collection. Every squeaky bone, every frayed rope, and every rubber chicken was cataloged, dusted, and stored in a color-coded bin. Priscilla’s favorite, "Commander Chew," a sturdy, navy-blue rubber whale, was kept in a locked velvet case.

Priscilla had an excellent memory, but today, she realized something terrible: she had completely forgotten where she buried her emergency bone.

The emergency bone wasn't just any bone; it was a dried, polished lamb femur, meant to be consumed only in the event of an asteroid strike or a sudden lack of kibble.

"Panic Protocol Alpha!" Priscilla barked, setting off a frantic search. She consulted her mental database, which was normally flawless.

Location Entry 1: Under the rosebush? Priscilla dug furiously. She found a perfectly organized collection of bottle caps, filed by color. No bone.

Location Entry 2: Behind the shed? She raced to the shed. She found a beautifully arranged stack of shiny flat rocks, categorized by smoothness. No bone.

Her best friend, a laid-back Dalmatian named Douglas, watched her frantic digging. "Priscilla, calm down. It's just a bone. You bury fifty a week."

"This is the Emergency Bone, Douglas! It has sentimental value and optimal marrow density!" she shrieked, pulling her organized toy bins out of the house.

Priscilla was on the verge of tears. She had lost her emergency plan. She finally sat down amidst the chaos of scattered toys and dug her face into her paws.

As she did this, her paw hit something hard. She looked down. She wasn't sitting on dirt; she was sitting on her dog bed, which was made entirely of shredded fabric and soft stuffing.

A tiny, familiar scent wafted up. She pushed the stuffing aside and there, tucked right under the very center of her bed, was the Emergency Bone.

But pinned to the bone with a tiny, silver safety pin, was a handwritten note: "If found, chew immediately. You are clearly stressed and need to relax. – P. (Past Self)."

Priscilla’s Past Self had left a message for her stressed Present Self! She barked a happy laugh, picked up the bone, and started chewing with great relief. Douglas just shook his head. "She even organizes her own nervous breakdowns." Priscilla, however, was already planning the new bin label: "Emergency Stress Relief Items."