Enemy At The Door

Every day at half past nine the enemy comes to the door.
There is no one at home to hear his tread up the stairs
But me curled up napping on the cold tile floor.
He whistles as he approaches, taking me unawares.

But quick as a flash I’m up and I’m ready to go.
Ears up like radars, my mouth at the ready,
Ready to act against this cold-hearted foe.
First I must stand and get my nerves steady.

I hear him try the box by the door, open then nothing
But a long drawn out silence before clink goes the lid.
It is my signal to bark like a possessed fiend,
Barking so loud I rotate in circles and fall as my foot slid.

A quick little yelp, then I shake myself clear.
I listen intently to try to make out his plan.
But surely my barking made him quiver with fear.
The whistle resumes, and quickly I scan.

He did not reach the indoors, not while I was down,
Then I hear the tread of his receding boots.
I smile so proudly thinking of his defeated frown.
Then quick as he came, his presence is mute.

I sit and I think of the fool that he is.
Never once does this foe try the knob on the door.
Clearly for a human he is far from a whiz.
I almost feel sorry for the man so intellectually poor.

Later my master comes homes with a grin.
Look Spot, I’ve got a new treat for your head.”
I wag my tail so vigorously I bump into his shin.
“It arrived in the mail, a soft new bed.”

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