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Rated: E · Fiction · Animal · #2073012
A dog and a human view the mailman differently. The Writer's Cramp Entry.
I closed my eyes and listened to the birds chittering and insects buzzing. I could smell the chicken’s coup and an earthy, sweet scent each time the cows pulled grass to chew. The sun was warm, but the wood porch slats were cool on my belly. All was well in the farmyard.

I heard the familiar mechanical whirr and my ears perked. It got louder, and I lifted my head. I watched the end of the tree line growing along the edge of the road. The white truck with the blue and red stripe appeared. I gave a low growl, but I didn’t bother getting up.

Almost every day, the man in the truck violates my person’s black box by either taking what my owner put in there or leaving something. When I was younger, I would chase the truck, but it always got away.

The vehicle slowed down, but instead of stopping at the box, it turned into our drive. The hair on my back raised, and I was on my feet. I gave a warning growl and began barking. I needed to alert the leader of the pack: my owner. The truck eased up the gravel. I stayed where I was. If he tried to get this far, I would rip an arm off. The screen door hinges squeaked, and my human stepped out. She stood beside me watching. I looked up at her and ran toward the truck. I was going to take him out before he got to her. She followed.

The man hung his head out the window.

“Nice doggy.”

He stuck his hand out like he was going to grab me. I snarled, lunged, and snapped, but I missed.

Beauregard,” the pack leader said in her most serious voice. “Come here.”

I gave the man in the truck one last growl and trotted to her side. Together we approached the truck.

“Sit,” she said.

I sat. While the two talked I sized up the height of the door wondering how easy it would be for me to get in. I looked at his neck and knew just where to chomp. He was afraid. I could smell it.

“I would get out, but your Saint Bernard might eat me.”

“He is very protective. He is the only bodyguard I’ll ever need.”

“Well, I have a package for Hildegard Bowman.”

“That would be me.”

The man tried to hit my human with a brown box through the window. I got up and snarled.

“On the porch, Beau.”

What? And leave you alone with this intruder?

I slumped toward the porch. Every few steps, I looked back to make sure she didn’t need me. I stood on the top step watching. My human came up the walk with the brown box. She had managed to take it away from him, and he retreated. I was so proud of her. I wagged my tail and pranced. When she got next to me, I sniffed her legs for wounds. She scratched me on the head.

“You’re a good boy, Beauregard.”

I smiled, panted, and followed her to the door but stayed outside. I trotted back to my resting spot and sniffed the air. I spun a couple of times to make sure I got the right angle to be able to keep a nose on everything. The chickens smelled calm, and the cows continued to chew their cud. All was quiet, and I let my eyes droop thinking about what a good team my human and I were. She needed me.
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