The thought came to me when I saw my neighbor walking his dog. Every day he walked his dog at the same time. The dog was big and black with a square head and a sleek body.  It’s a personal prerogative I know but I prefer if a dog has the audacity to be big-bear like big; teddy bear big.  A dog with a sleek muscular body conveys hunter and me, prey. 

So it came to me to get a Chihuahua.  One of those annoying little beasts that bark constantly.  I thought I’d test the waters first, so I went to an adopt-a-dog kennel and I met a perfect little firecracker named… Sleepy.  I was not deterred by the name because he had tiny feet and pranced about as if plugged into a high voltage outlet. 

I came home with a soft bed, food and a promise to try each other out for three days.  It was hell.  The first thing he did was pee.  No kidding, I set Sleepy down and his little legs quaked, and he dripped pee right where he stood. Divided equally between pity and annoyance, I cleaned the tiny mess up.  The dog, looked up at me with a look of abject sorrow. 

“We’ll try again, big fella.”  I said.  I gave old Sleepy a scratch behind his ears and tried to convey to him he was, in fact, a dog.  Despite his diminutive size, he should act like… well, a dog. 

We moved back into the compact living room of my house and I felt the little guy shake.  It was at this point, I thought maybe this is a terrible idea. I set Sleepy down on the floor.  He kept himself together enough not to pee and started sniffing the air.  Moving to my chair and picking up my notebook, I tried to write a few pages of rhyme that would pay my bills and keep Sleepy in the posh.  

I’m a poet and according to some critics and my publisher I’m not a bad one.  I spent most of my life traveling with my ne’er-do-well-father.  I was in several schools, missed weeks at a time and never fit in.  The one thing my Dad kept me in was notebooks.  At 13 I filled them.  At 15, I had several.  When Dad and I parted ways, I was 18 and enrolled in a community college.  An alcoholic and despondent English composition professor took an interest in me. 

The money wasn’t good, but I was used to fast food wages so when poetry paid out, I thought my life was pretty well perfect. 

Until I bought the small house on this quiet shaded street where my neighbor and his dog walked by like clockwork. The realtor priced the house to sell. I bought it. 

I looked up from my notebook as I heard Sleepy issue out with a deep-throated growl.  The dog was peering down the hallway, his little hind legs shaking like well-played fiddle strings.   “Easy, boy.”  Not knowing what else to say.  Sleepy turned about quickly as if he were chasing his stubby tail and barked, backed up, growled, and then fell over, feet up.

I was mortified.  Had I killed the dog?  I threw down my notebook and crouched down next to the poor mutt.  I rubbed his tummy and felt his heart thumping.  His eyes were shut tight, but then he looked up at me.  His eyes were compassionate but sad.  I picked the dog up and carried him outside to the porch. 

Again my neighbor was walking his dog, the big black sleek dog that put everyone at a distance.  The little Chihuahua shot out of my arms and straight for the big black dog.  My neighbor’s dog stood his ground.  Sleepy barked and growled and snapped, dodging about like a boxer. 

I picked up Sleepy and apologized. 

“No worries,” said my bohemian looking neighbor, “you need a killer like that living in that house.”

“Oh?”

“Nobody has lasted as long as you have.”

“I will admit that it’s a bit spooky.”  As we talked Sleepy kept up a low growl.

“Neighborhood kids used to dare each other to stand on the porch for a solid minute.  Would swear some lady would look out through the curtains at them.”

“Wow, kids don’t change much.”  I felt a little weak-kneed as the reality of my situation seemed to be proved.  “Did something happen in there?”

“Yeah, I murdered my wife in there and her dog.  The dog gave a good fight,” here my neighbor looked at the big black dog in front of him, “but I prevailed. But now he walks me all over the damn place.” My neighbor walked down the deep-shadowed sidewalk and faded from sight.