Redhawk Caldera Who's got a poopy-doopy-doopy

"Hee boo-ee!" Nightjar echoed back, whipping his tail over his back and positively bouncing on the spot. Peregrine's laughter in the background distracted him—he turned to face his father with his good ear propped up and his dead one hanging listlessly to the side—and that was all he needed for his more pressing bowel concerns to come forth, literally.

He barely managed to tuck his butt and step away from Elwood's paw before his gut unclenched. Nightjar wasn't all that concerned about anybody watching him, since it was the most natural thing in the world and no one would ever teach him that some wolves thought it impolite. What he was concerned about was that his grass patch was not under his feet, and so he turned and waddled, ass hanging down, for the patch at the edge of the clearing. By the time he reached it, he'd already left his droppings in a line behind him.