The Intruder

Khaki has become a guard dog. The other day, while Tom was working late, Khaki was outside on her perch. A smallish hill that faces out toward the street in front of our house. (See picture at left.) I had just put all of the kids to bed and there was still a little light outside. All of a sudden, I hear her bark. This was not her typical oh!it's-another-jogger bark. This was a real, grown-up I'm-protecting-my-house bark. Well, I look out at her. Still on her perch, but barking up a storm. I look in the general direction of where she is barking..nothing. I walk from the back door to the front of the house to see in the direction she is looking...nothing. Still, she continues to bark. I go outside to check things out more closely. Cautious because my neighbor has told me about foxes being in the neighborhood. I'm expecting to see a dog, or a realtor putting a sign in our yard, or a wondering stray. There is nothing. But wait, what is that? I see something stuck on my fence. As I walk closer, Khaki starts to get very fierce. Doing her bob-n-weave between me and the fence. Howling, growling, barking..."GOOD Lord, Khaki what's wrong with you?", I'm thinking. It's a white plastic bag. I yank it out of the fence and show it to her. She immediately cowers. I shake it in her face, and cussing in my head. I am totally not amused by her lack of protectiveness and her abundance of stupidity. She hits the ground, sure she will be killed by the white plastic bag. I march back to the door, muttering. She takes off on a 100 mile an hour tear through the yard. Thinking to herself, "Yippee! Alive another day!"