Well. That was interesting.

Something (not, I"m pretty sure, someone) tried to come in through the dog door this evening. I heard the plastic flaps rattle and then Ruby went off like a Roman candle! Belatedly, the dim human realized whatever made that noise was not one of the dogs, right about the time Cassie got the same idea and started to bark.

So I leap up and holler Git'em! Git'em, dog! This eggs Ruby on: she now goes utterly BATSH!T. My pistol is locked away, so it's pretty much me and my dog agin' whoever's out there, mano-a-mano and fang-a-ankle.

In a flying rage, Ruby shoots through the dog door, barking and frothing. Forthwith, she shoots right back in. Then she streaks back out. By now Cassie and I are headed for the kitchen, where I can see out the back door and also grab a butcher knife.

Looks pretty quiet out there. If the visitor was a person, I'd have heard him running away. If he was trying to hide around a corner, Ruby would have found him. Evidently she has found nothing, though she's tracking up a storm. I unlock the door and Cassie and I follow the pup, who by now is vigorously patrolling the perimeter of the yard.

Nobody's around. The gates are locked. The anti-bum gate across the alley entry is secure. Ruby's still sniffing frantically around the back gate. She apparently thinks the perp went out (or came in) over the gate.

I personally think the perp probably jumped over the gate, the perp no doubt being a cat. Or possibly a raccoon, which could easily jump the fence over the woodpile. Out, that is. In? Who knows? A coyote can jump that wall, but a raccoon, standing flat-footed on the outside? Maybe not. It was probably one of Other Daughter's accursed stray cats.

The whole performance was something to see, though. Cassie wasn't especially disturbed -- she was alert and interested, but hardly enraged. Ruby, though, was in full German-shepherd mode: mad as hell and not about to put up with any shenanigans. The few times I've had the misfortune to watch a GerShep launch into that kind of fury, they behaved exactly the same way.

The dog door actually is a German-shepherd door. More than that: it was installed to accommodate Walt the Greyhound, who stood so tall that the 80-pound Anna could walk under him like he was a bridge. The door is big enough for a 6-foot-2 man to climb in. I've gone in and out of it a couple of times myself. So it does present something of a risk. But because it's punched through a block wall, sealing it up would be a challenge.

It has a (supposedly) bullet-proof(!) locking door, though. If I were slightly less lazy, I'd lock the thing at night. That would require me to remember to open it in the morning, though...

It's interesting that such a small dog would be that bold and that defensive. I suppose it has to do with the same set of genes that makes a corgi a herding dog. Sure is strange to see, though.