The bathtub in the guest room has had difficulty draining as long as we've lived in this house. We hate it. Somehow, though, in nearly 5 years of residing here, we have never fixed it. Even when we did the addition and had a plumber wandering around here on a regular basis, we never asked him to fix that tub. I have no idea why.
In a few short weeks, we will welcome Ro*, Abigail and Mikey for a week of teen-age girls. We're very excited, but seriously, it was time to fix that tub. So I called the plumbers with the most recommendations on my neighborhood listserv. It's a fraternal pair, and they came by this very evening. When they knocked on the door, I went and let them in with Monkey at my heels. He did not bark. He danced about in a sort of, developmentally delayed spasmodic manner, but there was no barking. They went directly to the bathroom and as I explained the tub's issue, he sat attentively by, presumably protecting me, his beloved human, from these total strangers.
The Frazier Brothers diagnosed the problem inside of 5 minutes and set to work correcting it. Jeremiah and I were both preparing food in the kitchen, and I could hear them testing the drain. "I think they're already done." I commented to Jeremiah. He rounded the corner to check up on them and I heard him say "is he bothering you?"
Monkey, fearless guardian of the household, the one to beware, sat in the lap of one of the brothers as he ran water through the newly corrected drain. Monkey smiled up at Jeremiah. I have to believe he was trying to show Jeremiah that he'd taken one of the intruders down for us, and was holding him there until the police arrived. This is my assumption. I feel safe.