I've always prided myself on my very helpful nature. As a member of the family I have to carry my own weight around here and do my part.

It's my job to keep the family safe. When the guy across the street warms up his truck, his taillights will shine through the sidelights at the front door. I will stand *between* Mom's ankles and growl. You know what I'm talking about ... the low, guttural growl that only an 18-pound, 10-inch tall fellow can muster. Never fear folks for *I* am on the job.

I am also quite helpful when it comes time to put on your shoes. Dad isn't the slip-on-shoe kind of guy. So each day when he puts on his shoes, I am Scottie on the Spot. Before he can get the second shoe, looped and tied, I have helped him untie the first one. I'm persistent, too, so we can do this over ... and over ... and over. My generosity isn't exclusve to Dad, I'll help Mom as well. It can take us more than a few minutes to get ready for our evening walks. Mummy, however, has developed a coping mechanism that involves a pair of slip on sneakers ... the spoilsport.

As I get older, I am certain that I will be entrusted with even *more* responsibility ...