I’m Nigel J. Wiggins, the alpha dog of my pack and protector for Don and Sherry. It’s been a tough job lately. After all, I’m no longer a young pup. I’m a mature canine on my way to retirement.
Today, a well-organized group of enemies invaded the front yard. They all showed up at once, rising from the ground with steel gray helmets that could turn 360 degrees (like Rosemary’s baby). Then, like an organized regiment, they began to fire a fine, cold spray of who knows what.
Keeping the younger, less experienced dogs back, I attacked the metal helmets one at a time. The sharp enemy spray stung my nose and eyes, but I kept persisting, grabbing each of the 10 helmets and yanking these invaders out of their foxholes. When I was finished, all 10 of the enemy regiment could only sputter little drips of liquid onto our bright green grass.
Now I’m sitting at the front gate, waiting for Sherry and Don to return to their safe home. I’ll bet an extra dog biscuit is my reward.