Alice is in the house, pushing the vacuum. Ed is in the garage, doing something with the car. Buddy/Mack is enjoying a few minutes by himself. Unlike Justine, who left Buddy/Mack alone for good chunks of time, these people seem intent on keeping him company. It’s not that companionship isn’t nice; it’s just that he can’t get a full nap in. There is always someone there to stroke him, or speak to him, or make him move over; some adventure being cooked up, like go-for-a-ride or go-for-a-walk. The day-to-day activity of these humans, who continually wander around their house, needing to have an eye kept on their movements, keeps him busy. Following them as they go from bedroom to cellar to kitchen to living room is an exhausting business. He’s glad Alice suggested that he wait on the deck while she uses that infernal machine, has let him go out on the deck to watch the wildlife, catch a few minutes of a nap, and expect that there might be a squirrel to chase.

Then, miraculously, there is a squirrel. It’s brazenly creeping across the expanse of backyard, stopping here and there to root around for whatever it is squirrels like to find. It sits up, something in its little useful hands, then drops to the ground and continues to hunt. Buddy/Mack is on his feet, the growl rumbling in his throat, the pulse of defender of the territory pounding through the length of him; he beats a quickstep before launching himself after his nemesis. His toenails scramble against the decking, unable to gain a purchase. He flings himself toward the steps and comes to a complete choking halt. He is tied.

This has never happened to him before. No one has ever tied him up. A simple “Stay” is enough to keep even Buddy/Mack from hurtling after squirrels, even though the command is frustrating. But this, this restraint, is shameful. Buddy/Mack shakes, whines a little as the squirrel continues on its unthreatened path, then resumes his sphinx pose. But the fun has gone out of it. How do these people expect him to defend their property if he’s tied, like some cur, to their deck rail? Why have they figured out the dance part of his repertory but not the simple obedience words he lives by? It’s the same as when Alice takes him on a walk. He wants to tell her that he can be trusted to return to her at a call, but she won’t ever let him off the leash. Off-leash work is puppy work. He’s been doing it for years.