Head Of Security

Leo is a German shepherd. He runs the place.

He came to us the hard way. Three trips to the pound before he turned three. He was chipped, so they called the people who had him last. They said they did not want him back. That was the whole message. A young dog, healthy, smart, and nobody wanted him.

We did.

He runs with me every morning. Not beside me. Slightly ahead, setting the pace, glancing back to see if I am keeping up. He has opinions about the route. If I slow down, he notices.

Then he works. He sits in the office while I do, in a spot where he can see the door. When the mail comes he handles it. When a delivery truck slows on the street he is already up. He takes the job seriously. Head of security, unpaid, never off duty.

On shop days he follows me out and takes a post in the corner. He guards the place from nothing in particular. Mostly he watches me work. When a joint does not line up, he knows. He does not say anything. He does not have to. The look is enough.

People think they are rescuing a dog. Sometimes it goes the other way. Leo needed a place to land. What we got was a running partner, an office manager, a shop inspector, and a very large opinion about who gets to walk up the driveway.

Nobody wanted him three times. Their loss.