Chapter 289: Meet Rocky

Rocky, this six-year-old Yorkie who spends half his time acting like a puppy and the other half lounging around like he's an old man... er... dog lifts his head from his spot beside me on the couch. He scans to the left and then the right. I should have expected what's coming, but regardless of how quick I've gotten at sensing Rocky's shifts, I don't get the laptop on the floor in time.

The dog who two seconds before slept peacefully, lunges off in his very own super dog move and races for the front door.

Bark. Bark. Bark, bark, bark!

"Rocky, no," I yell, chasing after him, but it's too late.

Ray, the mailman, shoves letters through the slot in my door and Rocky wastes no time snatching up the first one to touch his lips and violently shaking it back and forth. I don't know what the dog has against junk mail, but he definitely holds a grudge.

A very personal, violent grudge.

It's a daily occurrence, as if he thinks each piece of mail is here to attack us. I've tried everyth