Ferocious barking coming from the kitchen. Not your " Oh my gosh, I saw a dog (reflection) in the window! Why won't that other dog play with me?" bark. Not "How dare that squirrel, rabbit, stray cat run across my yard!" kind of bark. This bark was of the "Danger! Danger Will Robinson!" variety (of course, at 3:22 in the morning, all barks could sound like that).
Chloe never barks in the middle of the night. Never.
I sit straight up in bed and let the sound register in my head. I walk to the front window and look out. So does Hubby. A red truck is backing out of our driveway. A red truck I have never seen before.
"Good girl, Chloe," I say. "This is a good time to bark in the house."
She wags her tail and leans against my leg, seeking comfort.
"Did you see that red truck go down the driveway?"
"Yea. Maybe they were just backing out to turn around."
"No. They were all the way up to the house. Who would do that?"
"Could it be the weekend paper starting?"
A check of the front door confirms....paper delivered.
We pat Chloe and turn to go back to bed.