It’s happening.

Every day, I get comfy on the rug by the front door, right in the warm patch where the sun hits, and I keep watch. My Mom always tells me how cute I am. Then she points her little black rectangle at me and makes it blink, even though I am almost completely sure I look the same as I did yesterday. When other humans come into our house, she shows them the flattened spot on the rug where I lie and makes that soft, squeaky voice she uses when she thinks something is adorable.

Apparently, my guarding the house is adorable.

I don’t understand this, but I allow it. One day, she will realize I have been protecting her this whole time. She will call me the goodest boy. She will scratch the spot I like behind my ears. She will give me a big, fat treat.

And now, finally, I knew that day had come.

We were preparing for an intruder.

I did not know when the intruder would arrive or what kind of creature it would be, but there was no other explanation for what had been happening in my house. Mom and the spare human she calls Honey kept bringing in big brown boxes. The boxes smelled like hot cardboard, other people’s hands, and dusty trucks. Naturally, I sniff-checked every single one before they were allowed any farther into my home. Inside the boxes were strange things. Things that had to be put together with a lot of sighing, clanking, and Honey saying words Mom does not like me to hear.

There was a soft little bed that looked almost like mine, except it had a strap and buckle on it, which was suspicious. Beds do not need straps unless someone is trying to keep you from going where you need to go, like when Mom clips on my leash and tells me we are “not chasing squirrels today.”

There was a rolling thing with four wheels and a basket, like the basket where I keep my toys, except this one looked too tall and too serious to be for toys. A trap, probably.

And worst of all, there was the huge wooden rectangle. It had bars. Mom put a bed in it, but I knew a cage when I saw one.

There was a reason I hated cages. Mine had a bed, too. I had clawed at mine. I had gnawed at the metal bars. I had cried and cried until my belly got upset, and after that, Mom never made me go back inside.

So I knew what bars meant.

Clearly, Mom and Honey were expecting an intruder to come into our house, and they were setting out traps to catch it. But they wouldn’t need those. I would catch it first.

Week after week, I sat by the front door, extra alert. I barked at everything I saw. Honey didn’t like that.

“WINSTON! STOP! The neighbor lives there, it’s okay.”

I boofed back. I knew the neighbor lived there, but what if one day he walked into our house instead of his? Someone had to think about these things.

“WINSTON! It’s a BIRD, please stop.”

I huffed. Of course it was a bird. But birds had wings, and wings meant it could get inside if it wanted to. I would not be fooled by feathers.

“WINSTON! It’s a kid on a bike. You don’t need to bark!”

I snorted. How was I supposed to know that? What was a kid anyway?

The house kept changing, and no intruder came. I wasn’t going to give up. My human and Honey were still doing things to prepare for one. They cleared out one of the rooms in our house and set up all the traps in there. They spent a lot of time in there. They made the room look inviting – very smart. They rolled color onto the wall and even set out a toy box to lure the intruder in. I had to contain myself when I heard Honey squeak one of them.

I sensed it would be any day now.

That’s why when Mom and Honey left very quickly one day, I made sure to stay awake until they came back. The day dragged by, and they didn’t come home like they normally did. I started to pant heavily and pace back and forth, wondering where they were. I caught a glimpse of a shadow out front and bolted to the front door, barking as loud and as fierce as I could. It was time!

But it wasn’t an intruder.

It was Mom’s friend she called Sister, and I loved Sister. I immediately softened and wagged my tail. Sister came into the house, fed me, let me outside, and played with me. She didn’t stay, though.

“Don’t be sad, Winston. They’ll be back soon.” Sister patted my head as she walked out the door.

Sad? I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t even worried anymore. I had to go back to guarding the house from the intruder that was coming.

A few days passed. Sister came to see me every day. Mom must not have told her about the incoming intruder because she didn’t help me prepare for it at all. But I didn’t mind the belly rubs.

Then one morning, I heard Honey’s voice. I must’ve accidentally drifted off to sleep. He walked towards me, bent down, and gently pet me.

“Hey, Winston. Have you been a good boy? I missed you.”

I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch, wagging my tail with delight.

“Here, buddy, smell this.”

Honey held a blanket in front of my nose. It was just like the one I slept on. It smelled… familiar. Almost like Mom and Honey. It had a softer scent, though.

“Good boy.”

Honey patted my head, then said he’d be right back.

A few minutes later, Mom appeared. Honey followed her, carrying one of the traps I saw them unbox a while ago. I wanted to bark, but Mom spoke to me in that soothing voice she always used to sweet-talk me.

“Easy, Winston. It’s okay, buddy.”

Mom smelled different. She still smelled like Mom, warm and safe and mine, but there were new smells tangled all around her. The sharp-clean smell of somewhere that was not home. The smell of a healing wound. The blanket smell Honey had shown me.

Honey set the trap down on the floor. They must’ve captured the intruder before it even entered our home. I was sad I didn’t get to help. I took one careful step closer to look.

Mom knelt beside it, moving slowly, her eyes on me like she was waiting to see what I would do. I could hear it then. A small sound. Not a growl. Not a bark. Not even a proper squeak from a toy.

A tiny, wobbly noise.

My ears perked up. Inside the trap was not a monster. It was not a bird, even though it made strange little chirping sounds. It was not a kid on a bike, whatever that was (I still didn’t know). It sounded like a puppy, but it looked like a smaller version of Mom and Honey.

Mom reached into the trap and carefully lifted the tiny human against her chest. She wrapped the little creature in the blanket Honey had let me smell, with only a round face and one curled-up hand sticking out. The tiny human waved it in the air like it did not know what hands were for yet.

I leaned forward and sniffed.

Milk. Blanket. Mom. Honey. The clean, strange place mixed with something soft and lavender. And underneath all of that, something new. Something that made Mom’s heart beat faster. Something that made Honey’s voice go soft.

The tiny human made another little noise. I looked at Mom. Mom smiled, but her eyes were wet.

“Winston,” she whispered, “meet the baby.”

The baby.

I sniffed again, just to be sure.

The baby did not smell like an intruder. The baby smelled like family.

Interesting.

I lowered myself to the floor. I did not jump. I did not bark. I did not even lick, even though the tiny hand came very close to my nose and I was extremely curious about it.

Mom let out a shaky laugh and rubbed the top of my head.

“You’re the goodest boy, Winston.”

There it was. Finally.

I wagged my tail with joy as Honey handed me a big, fat treat. Then I rested my chin on the floor beside Mom’s knee and kept my eyes on the baby.

I think I understood now.

The soft bed with straps was not a trap. The rolling thing was not a trap. The thing Mom and Honey carried the baby in wasn’t a trap, either. The wooden cage with bars was not for an intruder.

They were places for the baby. Safe places.

I glanced toward the front door, then back at the tiny human in Mom’s arms. An intruder may not have come, but that didn’t mean one never would. And this tiny human that was the size of a puppy was going to need a lot of guarding. She looked like a smaller version of Mom and Honey, but she didn’t look like she could guard one single thing.

So I returned to my spot on the rug by the front door, right in the warm patch where the sun hits, and I kept watch.

Because I was Winston. I was the goodest boy.

And now, I had one more human to protect.