Charnac the Magnificent

Chandler is amazing. He sees all, smells all, knows all. You cannot fool that dog. I have tried to sneak a treat to Bette while he sleeps three rooms away, and before I have the bag of treats off the table he's there. When I'm walking him, he can drag me fifty feet over to a microscopic bit of hot dog that somebody's tossed. It's eerie when I'm sitting watching television or laying around the house and his ears perk up. Within seconds he's up and alert with Bette yapping next to him even though she has no idea why. It's Mark in the car. He has turned the  corner a block away and Chandler knows it. That's a good thing because it allows me ample time to put away the snacks, liquor, and whatever else it is I don't want Mark to know that I'm doing. The most chilling thing about Chandler is late at night, in the dark, when I'm walking him around the block. We'll be going along and all of a sudden Chandler stops and looks around behind us. There is nothing there, but he is persistent. We must stand there and look down the street for a couple of minutes. Sure enough, from around the corner comes his buddy Dandee or Gatsby and Gianni the Italian Greyhounds. Most of the time I never feel like we're in danger when I'm out walking with him at night. No matter how late or dark, Chandler will protect me. But I have to say, it truly creeps me out when he stops under a tree along the darkened street, and looks straight up.