My Life As A Secret Service Agent

I step out into the cold air. I scan the area to my left, alert to any movement or change in the landscape. My eyes drift upward. An attack could easily come from above, potentially death, a bullet speeding silently from that dark, high location. Her life and her safety are dependent on my skills of observation. She moves energetically down the path unaware that her safekeeping is the only reason I am here. Watching. Listening and ready to leap upon an attacker with no regard for my own safety. 

She stops momentarily to inspect something that has captured her attention. This is when she is most vulnerable. She is not moving and that makes her the perfect target. My eyes catch a tiny movement behind the bare branches of a nearby oak. I will do whatever is required of me. I am ready.  

Even though the early morning air is fresh and the sun’s rays are illuminating the trees and buildings around us, turning them into a rich gold hue, I cannot afford to enjoy this moment. One second’s worth of distraction and she could be cut down in a heartbeat. Her last heartbeat. She won’t see it coming. 

She squats and urinates. I hold my breath. How long will she be in this stationary position? I move closer to her, eyes to the tops of the trees, alert and on the job. She finishes and scampers away, her white fur a blur against the green grass. She is my 5-pound obsession. She enjoys my company and is innocently assuming that I stand out here at 5:45 am, in my pajamas, pulling my hoodie closer to my neck because I have nothing better to do. 

She darts back into the house through the sliding glass door and I am relieved that my sweet Chihuahua, Dixie has successfully pottied outside without being killed by a predator. The owls will have to revise their breakfast plans and target one of the wild rabbits. There simply isn’t any other choice for me. I am on duty. 

“05:30 hours. The sparrow has returned to the nest. I repeat. The sparrow has returned to the nest."