Ruby Rose Report for October 30, 2022: Turkeys and Reflections

 

Before I arrived at my true and forever home, River visited me and explained that unlike my previous residence, where there were two dozen watchdogs, I would be on my own. Being small doesn't mean I can't protect my house like an angry Great Dane. She said that intruders are more worried about being attacked by a dog than we are about them. All that was required was a mighty bark, which would make the trespassers think the house was being protected by a rabid Wolverine and flee. Like a poker player with short stack-facing pocket aces, a little dog's life is a perpetual bluff.

River told me the best location to scout for trespassers was the kitchen window by the door. It looks out on the driveway and street. River was much more of a social dog than I was. When River saw humans, she barked at them to come in and play with her. Our tiny shotgun shack is inhabited enough, and we don't need any more people, so I bark to make them disappear.

There is one creature who has me very concerned. I usually only see it in the window at night when the kitchen light is on, but occasionally I catch glimpses of it in the framed glass around the house. I must say it's quite the good-looking being with a bit of head, pointy ears, red fur, a brown muzzle, and a pink collar. As soon as I see it standing on the outside steps looking into the house, I bark at it, and like some creature from the movie Them, it mimics me. When I bark, it barks. When I get down, it gets down. When I pop back up, it does the same. Mommy tells me not to bark at it. She says it's just my reflection. I am trying to understand what that means. I would look it up, but who has time for all the barking?

This week during daylight, when "reflection" can't be seen, probably because he's a damn vampire, I caught an intruder I had never witnessed before. It had wings like a bird with a long, thin neck, a little head, beady eyes, and a sharp beak. I almost passed out from barking at it. My mommy said it's just a turkey. It looks like a dinosaur to me. I must back wildly and ferociously to scare it off. If I don't, I am afraid, like a meek husband, I would be pecked to death.

If I can't chase it away, I may have to team up with Reflection. Sometimes I think we share one tiny mind.