He will defend her against any enemy, but it’s not all that easy to decide who is the predator in this place. The big man, the one she calls Tucker, is clearly meant to be a friend. The other men who come to hammer and bang and rip and saw and stand around drinking coffee are less obviously friends, and he keeps a wary eye on them.
His new mistress has many layers. She’s singing to herself, then standing still, lost in some fugue state. She has as many olfactory messages as he can interpret. Happy, relieved, sad, worried, frustrated. Mostly, lonely. He has a fix for that and he applies it every chance he gets.