Redhawk Caldera Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.

Used to using cues more than words himself, Gannet caught on pretty quickly that something wasn't right.  What he was going to do about it? Completely different matter.

He frowned, bending down to gently press her side with his nose.  Stay still. Not sure if the pup would get the memo (but seeing no reason she shouldn't, as usual), he inspected her muzzle.

It was stuck.  He'd never seen such a thing.  She wasn't holding it, so it wasn't her jaws that were jammed; her tongue was just inexplicably attached.  He couldn't pull her without risking injury.

Perplexed, he whined, unsure of how to proceed.  Looking around, he sought out anyone who might be able to help with the situation.  If none were forthcoming he'd need to think up a solution himself, but he was flabbergasted.