“You dumb mutt. You’re the kind of watchdog that I love.”

I smiled back at him and waved good-bye with my tail. I didn’t really like being called a dumb mutt, but the way he laughed and smiled made me feel good. In fact, I could hear him laughing and chuckling as he dragged the heavy bags all the way across the sandy field behind my yard. Besides, he did say that I was the kind of watchdog that he loved. That made me feel great.

More than anything else in the whole world, being a good watchdog was the one thing I wanted. I guess I’d done a good job, too. I knew my new master, Mr. Shaffer, would be very proud of me, because . . .

I watched—just like a good watchdog is supposed to.