My Little Protector

A cool wind drifted over my face, toyed with the strands of my hair, and rocked the hammock beneath me. It swung, the chains creaking. Creak, creak. Creak, creak. A drink, beads of moisture decorating the outside of the glass, rested on a small table beside me. The sun shone down from overhead, warming my exposed skin. The crash of the surf nearby merged with the creaking of the hammock and the sigh of the wind into a lullaby. Peaceful. Soothing. My haven, my special place.

Something flew overhead, blocking the sun and casting a shadow over me. A turtle. A turtle? Turtles didn’t fly. That couldn’t be right…it thumped onto my chest, knocking the air from my lungs.

I jerked upright, my eyes popping open. The beach oasis disappeared to be replaced by my darkened bedroom. Wheezing, rubbing a hand over the pain in my chest, I searched the shadows of my room. My gaze stopped on the little figure standing poised in the doorway, the light from the window in the front door illuminating her blond fur.

Trixie rolled her head back, barking her little yipping, raspy bark. My little chihuahua-Pekingese mix, a force contained in a little package. When I didn’t respond, she yipped again, her whiskey brown, bulbous eyes fixing on something behind her before returning to stare at me intently.

I scowled at her. “Did you jump on me? What do you want? I’m trying to sleep here, baby girl.”

Who really knew what dogs wanted? I pulled the comforter back over my shoulder, snuggling down into my little nest, but before I completed the motion, she rushed across the short space and hit me with her little paw. I glanced down at her, and she stared intently into my eyes, as though trying to convey something. Flipping around, she ran back to her post in the doorway and yipped again.

Fine, whatever. I would see what she wanted. Then maybe she would let me return to sleep and my island paradise. I rolled to my feet. I didn’t have time for this; I had work in the morning. What could be so importa… I frowned as I focused on the light spilling onto the living room floor. Not the same scene I viewed as I dropped into sleep any other night the last two years.

As I stopped in the doorway, Trixie huffed under her breath, dancing in place. Touching my bare foot, she rushed to the front door. My open front door. I caught my breath, dread coalescing in my belly.

Ice settled in my veins. I scrambled backward and dropped to the floor, not taking my eyes off the living room. Groping under the bed and along the floor, I didn’t stop until my questing fingers met the smooth side of my bat. Grabbing it, I jumped back to my feet and groped along the wall in the dark, searching for the light switch. As my finger hovered over it, I hesitated.

Get the light and alert the intruder to my exact location? Or stumble around in the dark? Possibly right into their path? Light it is. I flicked it, squinting in the glare from the overhead lamp. Nothing in the immediate vicinity.

Tiptoeing past my small couch and coffee table in the spare living room, I held the bat out in a defensive position. I searched the heavy shadows in the next little room but couldn’t discern anything in the gloom. Trembling, every muscle poised for flight, I gripped the jamb and flicked the light.

My eyes went immediately to my makeshift closet, probing into the cubbies and under the shelves. No one. And no one under my desk on the opposite side. Slipping through on silent feet, Trixie on my heels, I hesitated on the threshold of my tiny kitchen.

The shadows hung heavy and absolute in here, too. The switch was on the other side of the room. I would have to cross through, blind, to turn on the light. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I took a deep breath and raced across the room. I hit the switch and swung around, the bat poised and ready. Still nothing.

Letting out a shaky breath, I returned to the living room. Last room, the one where I had slept, where someone could have been lying in wait in the darkness. Bracing myself, I rushed to the bedside lamp. Fingers fumbling, I missed the string. Missed again. Awareness crawled over the skin of my back. I expected any moment to have someone grab me from behind.

A scrape from deeper in the room sounded. I grabbed the string and pulled. Immediately, the light flashed on, and I spun around with a cry. Nothing. And the attached bath didn’t hold an intruder, either.

I closed the front door on leaden legs and slid the lock closed. A fine trembling began in my body. My legs turned to jelly, and I sank onto the floor. A sob built and burst free. I covered my mouth, tears welling up and spilling down my face.

Trixie yipped, performed her little dance twist all her own. When that didn’t get a response, she hopped right into my arms. Always trusting I would catch her. I gathered her close, buried my face in her fur. She licked my chin, comforting me.

“Good girl, Trix. You’re my good baby girl.”

I never found out why the door was open. Maybe the old house shifted, the lock popping and the door creaking open. Perhaps one of the crack smokers haunting our town at night blitzed and befuddled out of their minds, stumbled in, heard Trixie bark, and scrambled away. Maybe she even deterred someone slinking close in the darkness, taking the open door as an invitation to come in.

I don’t know. I probably never will. I do know Trixie warned me and saved me from an unknown danger lurking close to her domain. My six pound baby girl protected me that night.