Killer

I have a dog. She is the sweetest dog ever, which makes up for her stupidity. Really, she's not the sharpest blade in the drawer, although I don't know if I've given her enough credit through the years. She can sit. And occasionally, if she's in the mood, she'll get in her crate when you look her in the eye and say, "Get in your bed!" But ONLY if you're leaving the house will she decide that. Most of the time she hears the keys jingling and hides under someone's bed so she doesn't have to go to the crate. And because we are lazy pet owners, we aren't about to run from room to room looking under beds for her when we're already in a hurry to get out the door. Lucky dog.

Anyway, we like to call her Killer because when guests come knocking on our door, she barks like a crazy dog. Now if push came to shove would she actually protect us? By, say, biting the intruder? Hell no! She would run the other way! She's all bark and no bite. Pun intended.

Case in point. One time a couple years ago we left town to go the lake for the weekend. When we had gotten about 20 minutes from home, it hit me. I had left Chloe (her real name) at the house alone. WE WERE GOING TO BE GONE FOR 3 DAYS, PEOPLE. See what I mean about lazy dog-owning?? What was I thinking?! The answer to that is: I clearly WASN'T thinking. So, I called my friend Terri. She loves dogs. Maybe she'll save Chloe! Sure enough, Terri is the friend who will go to the moon and back for you, so she called her husband and asked him to run by our house and get Chloe.
Rob pulls up to our house and comes inside. He has a little trouble with the keypad for the alarm (hey, we were keeping her safe, if alone). And when he finally gets it turned off, he looks around to see nothing. No barking. No dog. Nothing. The house is silent. The dog is missing. So much for protecting our home.

Let me interject here that Rob and Terri have spent many hours on our couch loving on this dog. Petting her, snuggling with her. She LOVES Rob and Terri. But Rob has grown a beard. And Rob doesn't look like Rob. He's the scary man who just came into our house. And so Chloe did what she knows how to do. She hides.

Rob spent about 20 minutes searching our house for this crazy dog. He's a saint I tell you, with patience unmatched by most men. And as he moved from room to room, my dog stealthily moved around as well. Finally when he had looked under every bed, in every closet, in every nook and cranny, he gave up. He was standing in our living room, throwing his hands up in the air and saying to himself, OK, forget it. She can stay here by herself all weekend. I give up. When right then he looked across the room. There was Chloe, hiding between the couch and the side table, staring at him.
Do you see why I have no faith in this dog? She was ready to watch a stranger steal our house clean while crouching in the corner.

Killer.