Short story about your dog

I am the dog of the house, and that comes with many responsibilities.  Among those is keeping my house safe, and I take that job very seriously.  Everyone who walks through those doors must go through a background check.  I smell their backside from the ground up, making sure to register their identity.  My people’s food must be safe, so everytime someone eats, I demand a portion to taste, by whimpering and shifting my body weight whey they say “sit”, so that I may check for poison.  Whether or not they are grateful for it, I will never know. 

Although all this security work might seem routine, there is one thing which I have yet to fulfill.  The mailman is a mighty nemesis, and he scours all the houses of all these lands, leaving threatening letters which warn his victims that he will collect their “bills,” have a visit from “grandma,” or that their house might face “foreclosure.”  All these are code words for one thing, that he is a conquering barbarian who will pillage our lands.  If he thinks he’s going to get away with that, he will have to get through me. 

Everyday I wait to sense his unholy smell.  It reeks of paper, ink, and donuts.  When I do, I promptly attack, with the aim of taking his life.  But alast!  The fence and this chain, this horrid chain, does limit me!  Fie, Fie, thou vilest of fiends!  I see your smirky face as you walk away.  Your mind, full of clever plots and vile intentions, has perceived that I am the guardian of this house, and so you leave to lay waste to another house.

Alas, I cannot protect all the houses, but if I could, but if I could…  Everyday is the same scene.  He comes, I stop him, he leaves.  I would be content if it were not for the fact that his threatening letters are left in that box by the gate.  I suspect he planted it there himself, so that he may leave more threats, or perhaps someday, an explosive.  He does that to all the houses, and my fellow dogs, even the stray ones, do their best to protect the homes, but he is too sly, and leaves all the letters he wants.   

For as long as I live, I say to myself, I will protect my family from the mailman.  However, that leads me to another thought, a somber one.  I cannot live forever.  There will be a day when my feet no longer carry me, when my bark no longer vanishes evil, and when my smell no longer identifies friend and foe.  They say all dogs go to heaven, but when my time has come, my ghost will remain, making sure that my family is safe until they themselves reach heaven.  Ether teeth don’t bite so hard, so I do hope, however, that providence provides my family with a replacement guardian when my body returns to the earth. 

But on the meantime, I keep vigilance, in the meantime, I scout the perimeters.  There is no rest for me yet, and there shall be none also for the mailman.

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