My hubby scoffs at my cautious nature. He trusts our doggies. He has faith that they won't do anything unforgivable, or irrevocably stupid. At night, when the raccoons prowl, and in the wee hours of the morning, when the deer traipse daintily through, he lets both dogs out at once; Puck barreling over Brittany, hardly waiting for her to finish what she's doing before bounding over to reclaim those lost square-inches of the backyard. They are barely controlled chaos when they're out there together, and they gallop back into the house once they're done: Puck running full speed up the ramp to the front porch, skidding past the front door, turning at the rail, and running back, shoving the door open with his nose while Brittany dances back and forth on her tiny paws, waiting for him to get out of the way before she ventures in.
Tonight, when they bounded in, Puck's eyes were bright, wide-open, and excited. His tongue lolled to one side, and he plopped down on the basement floor, looking at us with a very believable smile. "Well, this one just proved his worth," said his proud pop, following him down the stairs at a more sedate pace.
I guess this is what happened: Brittany and Puck went outside in their normal slapdash fashion- Brittany heading for the far corner of the garage, Puck following at his habitual, respectful distance. As Puck reached the garage, he slowed, and V heard him growl his low, intense danger-growl.
There was a growl in response.
Puck ran. V leapt from the porch where he'd been standing to follow.
By the time he got to the garage, Puck was at the border of the woods, scraping the ground with his front paws, growling his most menacing growl. All V heard was something large tromping off into the woods. A coyote? A neighborhood dog? Who knows...
Brittany, perhaps oblivous, or just confident in her bodyguard, kept right on doing what she had come outside to do.
Puck and I played a triumphant game of chase (I was the coyote) after I heard the dramatic tale (tail).
That's my boy.
