My protector

Last night it was just Lane and I.  Madolyn was at church camp as a babysitter and Jay was at work.  Right at dark, Abby, our oldest surviving dog ever, started barking.  I went out to investigate and saw her staring into the woods behind the barn.  Hank the Tank II, the most pitiful dog ever-but we love him, came outside with me and looked that way but immediately tucked his tail and retreated inside.  I couldn't see anything and also went back inside.  Lane asked me what was going on and I told him that Abby must have seen or heard something in the woods, but I didn't see a commotion.  All was well.  We went on with our evening.

A little bit later, Abby started barking again, and I decided that maybe I had better head outside and look a little better into what she was barking at.  This time Hank the Tank took off outside and joined Abby behind the barn barking.  Lane asked me what I was doing when he saw me looking for the flashlight and he said to wait on him, he would come with me.  By the time I had found a working flashlight (you know how that it is) and my little man had his loaded rifle in hand (didn't know that was coming), the barking stopped.  We went ahead and decided to do a walk-around the barn.  With my brother and parent's cows, the horse and the pigs, you just never know.

So I with my barely-beaming flashlight and Lane with his loaded rifle set out to investigate the ruckus.  I swept the woods with the flashlight and Lane followed by my side...randomly sweeping the horizon with his rifle...as I ducked and swerved to miss the barrel.  (Good heavens, it would help if he were as tall as me.) We saw nothing.  Lane's solution was to just start shooting into the woods and pond to shut whatever up, and I said that was not a good idea.  Safety first, right?

We retreated to the house, let Hank back inside and Lane told me he would leave the loaded rifle on the kitchen table just in case.  (Isn't that where everyone leaves their loaded weapons?)  We carry on.

Because it has been so beautiful out the past few days, we had our windows open, which means that Sweet Josie has free reign in and out of the house.  Fine with us, but I knew come bedtime, she would want to be indoors when I shut the windows.  By about 9:30, I was ready to shut the house down.  I started looking outside on the front porch for Sweet Josie.  She was nowhere to be found.  (She is getting braver all the time.)  I called and called for her and nothing.  I went out on the back steps and listened to see if I could at least hear her somewhere.  All I heard were coyotes crying and every dog in the country block barking.

Out comes the Bud...with his loaded rifle.  He says, "Let me shoot at my target, that will take care of them." So I figure, why not?  At least he's shooting at something and not just into the darkness.  He fires away, we hear the blast and the ping of the target.  All is still and suddenly very quiet.  My nine-year-old looks up at me and says, "And that is how I take care of things around here.  Those coyotes can go kill someone else's cows."

He put his rifle up and guess who popped in through the living room window?  Sweet Josie had returned. Lane turned around and smugly said, "Huh, I even got the cat back in the house."

When we're on our own, we do okay, me and my protector...