"The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's." – Mark Twain, Letter to W D Howells, 4/2/1899

Not Scared

cfc9330b80975bab4f53ddfa66dbe86c (1)I don’t scare easily.

It’s true that I’m small and black and I don’t weight very much but someone once said that it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s size of the fight in the dog that counts, and that’s me.

But then, along comes someone who scares the shit out of me.

Not the dog, but he was pretty scary, it’s the girl.

Dogs know stuff. We read people and we read other dogs. Our survival depends on us knowing where the danger is coming from.

If we were in a pack she would have been driven away.

I knew the first time I smelled her that she was trouble and she had talked that big dog into helping her.

He wasn’t all bad, he was just doing what his mistress wanted him to do; look mean.

I wouldn’t go out of my way to annoy him, but I wasn’t worried about him. He was mostly for show.

She, on the other hand, was nothing but trouble.

Something really bad had happened to her and now she was very angry at the world.

I asked him what had happened to her to make her this way, but he said that she was like that when she bought him, so no luck there.

They are living in the big house down near the bakery. An old lady lives there and she took them in. They must be related. No one would put up with them otherwise.


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