The Melancholy of a Job Well Done

Hearing the familiar ‘click’ of a key as it enters the kitchen door, Sawyer the wonder dog leaps into view. Chairs teeter and paws skid across hardwood floors as 70 pounds of violence rushes toward me. Leaping and growling, our protector presses paws against glass. We eye each other through milky windows. Sawyer cocks his head, registers my presence, and howls to the ceiling above. As the door swings open our protective wall crumbles to the floor, exposing a white underbelly...

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