It turns out that Simon is a heckuva watchdog.
How do we know this? Well …
My old friend Paul has been visiting this past week, in from London. He’s stayed with me so many times over the years that he knows my friends–and the city–so I’m basically just the in innkeeper. He shows up, I give him a set of keys, and then I see him every know and then, as he’s off on vacation while I’m at work all day. (I’m still trying to figure out how I got suckered into that deal …)
The otherIt turns out that Simon is a heckuva watchdog.
How do we know this? Well …
My old friend Paul has been visiting this past week, in from London. He’s stayed with me so many times over the years that he knows my friends–and the city–so I’m basically just the in innkeeper. He shows up, I give him a set of keys, and then I see him every know and then, as he’s off on vacation while I’m at work all day. (I’m still trying to figure out how I got suckered into that deal …)
The other thing about Paul is that he’s got this extra gear that most people don’t have–I certainly don’t–and he can stay out all night, almost every night, when any normal human being would have collapsed by then from exhaustion. (He is a Brit after all, and they like their pubs …)
So the other night, oh, about 2:30 a.m., I hear a very slight click … and then Simon went into guard dog mode.
RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF … GROWL SNARL GROWL!
Which is great, I suppose, except that he was sleeping in our bed at time! Scared the crap out of me!
Simon goes tearing up to the front door, barking and growling and snarling like crazy, because Paul finally managed to drag himself in. Believe me, it’s great that Simon is protecting them home. We like that. A lot. But because Paul tends to come in late … almost every night … it’s given me a regular heart attack!
Simon is a darn good watch doggie. If only I can train Paul to come home at a human hour …
