Friday, April 9, 2010

A Message Regarding Homeland Security

I don't think I have to tell any pet owner how quickly our pets capture our hearts and become integral parts of our lives.  Our two beasts are no exception.  They have discovered our moods, our routines and our personalities as well, if not better than we have discovered theirs.  Belle is our Guardian of the Perimeter; at the first hint of weather above "arctic blast," she spends her time out of doors protecting terra firma.  Bishop is my personal bodyguard; he goes where I go and, because most of my activities are centered around the inside of our home, he is President of Homeland Security.  Just this very morning, our in-house defense detail was being debriefed regarding scheduled visitors later today.

We are having some work done around the house, and are in the process of garnering estimates; two businesses will be out today -- one reason for Scott's "security summit."  With regard to these foreigners, our defenders were told to "stand down."  Proper paperwork had been filed, clearances and ID checks were all as they should be, threat level is green -- "low threat."

Our proposed dinner guest?  Well, he's a different story.  Christine has been invited to attend an event with a "young gentleman" we do not know.  We will after dinner tonight.  Christine has been told in no uncertain terms she will not be attending if we are not properly introduced or we do not approve of the relationship -- a rule that applies whether her friends are male or female.   She just becomes a little more offended by our meddling when a guy is involved.

And Scott's security summit?  Though I am surprised he kept the surveillance slides, pie charts and wanted posters to a minimum, I barely flinched when he mentioned the need to "take a bite out of crime."  Bishop's eyes never left Scott as he explained the intentions of unscrupulous young men who would seek to harm Christine or sully her good name.  Tinkerbell seemed to understand her role would be minimal unless she was at any point, required to escort said young man from the premises.  Once everyone had their marching orders and our threat advisory for the dinner hour was set at orange -- "high risk" -- the three of them, I am proud to say, refrained from reaching paws and hand into the center of their circle and giving a team cheer.  No one was seen out back filing canines to a point, or sparring to ready themselves for tonight's main event.  Providing this kid has the good sense to keep his hands to himself and carry a few Milk Bones, he just might have a fighting chance.
Post a Comment