Rover (our dog) has to be shot.  I am appointed to do it, but I just cannot bring myself to do it when he stares into the barrel of the gun so peacefully.  Grandpa finally has to do it.  I cry a while and then wake up, greatly relieved to know that it was just a dream.  After I go back to sleep, Grandma is showing me how to load a shotgun-wadding, powder, shot, etc.  She says to take "3-inch balls" out of a can and drop them in the barrel last.  By 3-inch, she means 3 steel shot about twice the size of a BB and one about the same size as a BB.  We then go into the woods to hunt.  The woods in Uncle Joe and Aunt Wilma's vacant lot in River City, I am pretty sure.  The first thing we see is a rabbit.  I lower my sights and track him.  Grandma keeps saying "Shoot.  Shoot.", but he runs between us and a house.  I think the shot has rolled out of the gun barrel, but I am afraid to look down the barrel and see.  As we come to sort of a cliff, Grandma finally looks down it, and I was right.  We go back to the house and pick out more 3-inch shot.