a small one. all wire and weather. he has the kind of body that looks as if it were assembled at speed from the materials nearest to hand: hedge clipping, oat bristle, a length of brown rope someone meant to throw away. he is, in spite of this, finely made.
he knows the footstep of his person from a great distance and from down the wrong street. he sits at the door fifteen minutes before any audible sign. when the person enters he behaves as though they had been away for a year. when they are away for a year he behaves as though they had stepped out for fifteen minutes.
his bark is twice his size. his vigilance covers knocks at three houses on either side. he has a quiet relationship with the cat next door — neither friendly nor otherwise; an agreement that the air is for breathing in.
— he listened to the gate before the gate moved. i timed it: four seconds early. — h.