The Watcher

Jake stood, still as a statue.

The man was back again, parked across the street, watching his house—same guy he’d seen, earlier. Jake knew trouble when he saw it.  He’d been trained to deal with all kinds in the army.

The man pulled slowly away, still staring at the house.

Jake watched him leave, then moved to a better spot where he could see who was coming from either direction. He’d be ready to take this guy on. Jake knew he’d be back. He had a sixth sense. He yawned, stretched and made himself comfortable.

Sure enough, a little later,  it was the same guy. He got out of his car and ran, bent over, across the street.  He was carrying a gun. The hair rose on the back of Jake’s neck. He waited; muscles tensed.

The gate clicked open.

Jake growled as his sleek Doberman body sprang into action.