Elmo charged many dogs that made the mistake of roaming through their yard, a fierce defender of their hilly yard on Smokey Road. Elmo assumed his rightful throne behind the screen door, looking down upon the neighborhood. Anything that came by the house was barked at. No one in the Kearns family had any explanation for his behavior. Matt assumed Elmo was born as an alpha, and there wasn’t much anyone could do. Elmo even scared him sometimes with how he’d bark at strangers. Yet at the same time, Elmo was loving and gentle with the family.

Once, Elmo had escaped out the screen door when a Rottweiler trotted up the walk. The Rottweiler had stood its ground, and Elmo slammed into the much larger dog in a tumbling ball of fury, slashing and biting. As the Rottie clamped its jaws onto Elmo’s back, Elmo had yipped and shrieked. Upon seeing Matt sprint into the yard to “defend” Elmo, the Rotty had looked up. This was all Elmo needed. Without hesitation, Elmo leaped up and bit the Rotty’s nose, causing it to cry out. Then the Rotty took off down the hill, with Elmo in pursuit. The Kearns had heard the commotion and ran outside, wondering what the hell was going on. His father appeared first, broomstick in hand. There had been no need for the broomstick on that day though. Elmo was the victor, sitting in the neighbor’s yard, staring down the Rotty as it wandered into the forest. Elmo lived for danger, and had no regard for cars. He’d often chase them up and down the hill. One evening, Matt had just finished eating dinner when he went out into the yard to look for his baseball mitt. Unaware that Elmo was hiding behind the main door, Matt opened the screen door. Elmo raced out into the street just as a car sped up Smokey Road. Matt remembered shouting as a barking Elmo slid underneath the driver’s-side door of the speeding car. The driver, a horrified spectacle- wearing man, swerved towards the curb.

Andrea had come running.

“Matthew? Matthew! What happened? Where’s Elmo?” she’d said.

She’d stormed down the hill in her Bib overalls, tears glistening her cheeks. Matt had stood in shock at the side of the car. Their dog was dead. Elmo was dead.

The driver opened his door and started apologizing. Then the driver was cut off mid-sentence as a noise was heard under the vehicle, a sort of gruff, gruff and then the scrape of claws on asphalt. A furry white and brown mess shot out from under the driver’s-side door and then leapt inside the vehicle.

“He’s alive, Elmo is alive!” Andrea had cried.

The perplexed driver had been in danger of being licked to death by an Ewok.