Doc has been helping her 92-year-old Aunt Pat go through the things in her apartment as she has moved and no longer needs all she has accumulated over the years. I have observed that you humans buy and collect a lot of stuff the first half of your life time and then try to get rid of it as you get older. You either toss it, recycle it, sell it or pawn it off on relatives that usually don’t want it either. If all else fails, you rent a storage unit and put your stuff in there and try to forget about it.

My life is more simple, my stuff consists of a water and food bowl, bed, leash, a tennis ball and a few other toys. Easy! What isn’t so easy is when one of the things that means the most to you is a cat or dog that you love and you may not be able to take it with you. That was the dilemma that Aunt Pat was having.

The first time I realized that Aunt Pat owned a cat was when she came to visit and I could smell it on her. That was ok, because it stayed at her house. Then one day Doc started talking to me about bringing the cat home to live with us because it may not be able to go with Aunt Pat. “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Really!” Doc is loosing it if she thinks a cat is coming to our home to live. But you know Doc, she’s persistent and I do have to hand it to her, she would never let a living thing become homeless if she has any say so in the matter.

Ok I admit it, I was nervous. I had never lived with a cat and found them to be rather scary. Even when they’re little kittens they lunge at you. My only encounter with them is when I see them outside and they hiss at me and show those huge fangs. It’s enough to cause nightmares. So I started to worry, but didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want anyone to think that a dog as big as myself would be, for lack of a better phrase…..a scaredy cat.

Well, guess what happened. Today Doc came home and told me that the cat gets to move to the new place with her aunt to see if it will work out. Whew! Looks like I dodged a bullet for now, but I’m not going to get too comfortable because I have also overheard Doc talk about bringing home an orphaned pot belly pig, what ever that is.

Sunday morning at 6am is way too early to deal with a predator in the yard, but as the dog of the house it’s my duty to protect.

I hated waking Doc up so early to let me out, but I really needed to pee because I drank too much water the night before. It is so peaceful at sunrise and I was sauntering around the yard listening to the birds when I saw a saw something moving out of the corner of my eye. There between the houses something that looked like a dog, but didn’t smell or act like a dog stopped and had the nerve to look me over like I was the intruder. I ran to the fence and let out the bark I use to signal when there is danger.

Doc came running out on the back porch in her PJ’s yelling at me to be quiet before I woke up the whole neighbor hood when she saw it too. “Fox”, she said under her breath.” I could tell by her body language that she thought something might be wrong with the thing, because it didn’t act scared of me or even move when Doc clapped her hands and yelled for it go away. That fox was not budging and spent the better part of 15 minutes lounging in the neighbor’s yard.

Doc called me inside because she was a afraid the fox might be sick, but then what did she do? She got her camera and went back outside alone! As she slowly approached the fox, he came closer to her. I held my breath in horror. Sometimes that woman has no sense at all. There I was watching from inside the house unable to protect her if the fox jumped on her. I sure didn’t want this to turn into an episode of When Animals Attack.

Thankfully, after she took her pictures she came back inside and we watched together as the fox slowly left the yard and went through a hole in the neighbors fence. Doc went back to bed like nothing had happened. As for myself, I was too excited to sleep and kept watch out the window to make sure the intruder didn’t return. I must have fallen asleep while on guard duty because I awoke to the sound of Doc’s voice telling me it was time for breakfast. After all that early morning excitement, it was nice to go back to being normal, but I will keep a watchful eye just in case that fox returns.

It’s a possibility that my growing popularity is hurting Doc’s ego. I can’t really blame her. How would you feel if people greeted your dog and ignored you when walking side by side down the hall? I happen to know that Doc worked most of her adult life to establish her own identity through hard work and achievement only to find she is now playing second banana to a dog.

It’s not like she’s rarely ignored. No, this happens on a daily basis. Let me give you some examples; Not long ago, there was a VIP visiting the place we work. As Doc and I approached, the CEO began beaming and said to the VIP in a proud voice, ” I want you to meet Grover, our therapy dog!” He totally ignored poor Doc. She might as well have been a ghost.  Doc can’t even take a quiet stroll down the street without people stopping her so they can pet me.

Did I also mention that I have more Facebook friends than her and my own blog that continues to grow in popularity?

When I have a day off from work, Doc’s patient’s act so disappointed, she asks them,” would you like to reschedule your appointment when Grover returns to work?”

Then there’s all the photos people ask me to pose for. No one every asks Doc to be in the picture. Poor Doc, left in the shadows of my growing celebrity status.

Worried about her bruised ego, I decided it was time to sit down with Doc to reassure her that no matter how cute, smart, rich or popular I become that I will never forget the little people in my life, especially her. She listened to me patiently and then looking down over her glasses at me she said, ” I don’t think that I’m the one with the ego problem, sounds like you’re getting a little too big for your britches, mister.”

Doc does have a way of cutting through the bull to get to the point. To ensure my ego stays in check, Doc has a new job for me. She fired the “Pet Butler” that usually picks up after me when I go to the bathroom in the yard and is having me clean up after myself. Nothing like picking up poop to keep you grounded.

Doc didn’t notice the caramel colored fur ball streaking across the back yard, but I did. I ran as fast as I could over to the fence and placed my front paws on the top rung so I could see better.

Just as the four-legged thing turned the corner out of my sight, a man and his grandson came running by the house yelling, “Come here Bacon!” That’s the poor dogs name? No wonder she’s running away from home.

Doc happened to be coming out of the garage to take the trash to the curb just as Bacon ran by. After realizing the dog was an escapee, she burst into action. Running into the house,  she let me in from the back yard and said “Grover I need your help.” Out the front door we ran to the driveway where she had me sit by her side. ” Now watch what happens,” she said.

I don’t want to brag, but Bacon took one look at me and came tearing down the street, across four yards, came to a screeching halt and sniffed my butt.  With lightening speed, Doc reached down and grabbed Bacon by the collar before the poor dog knew what was happening. The happy owners looking relieved, ran over and put the leash on. Bacon’s brief taste of freedom had come to an end. After thanking Doc and I for our help, they headed home.

As Doc and I were walking back into the house, the next door neighbor yelled over to Doc ” good job, you two are just like a tag team.” He’s right, I thought, just like Batman and Robin. Doc and I could travel around town helping to capture lost dogs and return them to their loving homes. I could even wear a cape, mask and have special super powers, like shooting dog treats out of my paws. What a fantasy.