I was returning from a week long business trip, tired and looking forward to getting home. Turning onto the dirt road leading to my country home lifted my spirits.
Unlocked the frond door but didn’t hear the expected paws scrambling over tile and wooden floors. No sounds. My Dobie was always Johnny on the spot to welcome me home. Hairs on the back of my neck came to attention.
“Rusty,” I called, expecting him to come running.
Ignoring the light switch I had been about to flip, I moved into the shadows, then into the living room.
The fading sunset through the windows showed nothing out of place. Removing my shoes, I went into the dinning-room and finally the kitchen. No outside light here, I stood listening for any wayward sound.
Realizing this wasn’t accomplishing anything, I flipped the light on.
There he sat. Grinning like a bear enjoying a honey-comb.
“Hi Sweetheart, have a good trip?”
He acted like he didn’t know he had just scared the shit out of me; like he still had a right to pop in unannounced.
Guess me telling him we were through and retrieving my keys at gun-point, didn’t drive the point home.
“Get out of here,” I said.
“It’s okay, Honey, I decided to let you forgive me.” Rising from the chair, he started toward me just as Rusty flew through his dog-door and with a mighty lunge, knocked him over, gripped his throat and buried his fangs deep.
When I was sure he breathed his last, I rang 911.
“I need help. There’s a man is in my home.”
“Well, he doesn’t seem to be breathing.”
“No, he was attacked by my guard dog.”
“Yes, I know him.”
“No, I just returned from a business trip and found him here when I arrived.”
Winner of a Flash Fiction Challenge on MWC Dec., 2010