I’m home today with a miserable cold. It is rare I ever give in and stop infecting the rest of the world, but today I am shot. Since my voice is still almost shot it is a good day to sit around in PJ’s, read, type, drink lots of liquids and recuperate.
Except… the dog goes absolutely bonkers. He runs to me and the window, me and the window, and he’s barking like crazy. Of course, I check. No squirrel in the yard. “Be quiet, Duke.” He is still barking his fool head off, in fact, he’s even more agitated and his “yarking” starting to trend deeper. Now his bark is dropping into the “I’m a Bull Mastiff” register. The hair on his neck is raised. let him out on the gated porch and almost lost him over the gate – something unanticipated. Now he’s got hair raised from his neck to his tail. Okay, this is serious. Duke’s is running from side to side, growling, snapping, deep “roof! roof!” coming out of his 27 pound body. Yup, he’s officially going into aggression/defense mode. Dogs are not known to have hallucinations.
Aha! There! We have some young fool wearing a camouflage outfit like swaying grasses hunkered down behind a shrub brandishing an orange and yellow water cannon. There is an intruder in the neighborhood and Duke is all over it. I’m lucky Duke didn’t go over the fence and bite the fool, since Massachusetts is a state which has 100% liability for the first bite.
I open the window and in my best (hoarse) old lady voice say, “Son, you’re scaring the dog. Go play somewhere else.” I disrupt his “shot” as a car drives by and I add, “When the village dogs find you, go back to base. It’s over.” I hope to hell if he goes into the military he considers the fact the village dogs will turn him into mincemeat unless he’s more careful than this.