Where's My Dog?

I jumped back, startled by it's aggression. I would have missed it completely if it would have stayed still. I glared down at it's ugly, hole digging, root eating, field wrecking teeth as it squinted up at my giant, boot wearing, dog calling, shovel wielding figure and leapt forward again. The blade split the dry ground as I deflected the irrational attack.

Where was my dog? This was her job, and she was good at it. Not me; one who scoops up spiders as they race across my kitchen floor letting them run free in the grass.....no, not me. Wasted time, water and crops are all the varmits had ever given; still, I would transport it somewhere else, but I din't think my neighbors would appreciate the gesture.

The gopher lunged once more only to be met again by my shovel as I whistled for my delinquent dog; furred furry, oblivious to the power I had.....obviously not power over my dog, but it had to know this was the end. It should be working to make a deal, at least trying to look cute and helpless.

My feet sweltered in knee-high rubber as I brought the back side of the spade down on it's head, and cursed my dog.