I should have been fast asleep. In fact, I was fast asleep. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard a sound that didn't fit in with the whole natural-for-7 o'clock-on-a-weekday-morning scenario, and my eyes snapped open. Before I could even lift my head from the pillow, I heard Rufus' now-familiar warning bark coming from the backyard. Then I heard the @#*&%(*& weedeater.
Apparently, the lawn guys that do my neighbor's yard have figured that the best way to beat the summer heat is to begin when the sun's not up yet.
I called to Rufus, closed our bedroom window, and headed for the back door. By that time, one of the lawn guys was wheeling an industrial mower into our neighbor's backyard, clearly amused by the knee-high ball of fur menacing him on the other side of the fence. I wouldn't have been smug, though; Rufus has no fear whatsoever of lawn mowers, and by his body language, was debating whether he ought to consider the fence optional. He'd only met my neighbor a couple of times, but he was sure this wasn't her, or her cats.
When he saw me come out the door, Rufus visibly straightened; his ears and tail flicked up as high as they could go, and he hopped back and forth excidedly. At this point, I was trying not to laugh - he was basically saying, "Yeah! You'd better stay over there, mister strange-guy, or me and my dad will straighten you out, but good!" Striding across the lawn, I tapped the Woofer gently on his shoulder. He stopped barking and glanced over at me.
"It's OK, Rufus. You did good." I nodded at him, then at the back door. Apparently, he wanted to impress the interlopers with how awesome a team we were, and he quietly ambled back into the house with me. Since he'd worked so hard, I gave him an early breakfast, closed the dog door (to block out the noise of course, *ahem*), and headed back to bed to try and get my last 30 minutes of rest for the day.
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