On Guard

Mad Max was a tough little fuck of a dog.  Beaten as a puppy, he found a home rescued by my father-in-law's wife at the time. 
When we came out to take care of my father-in-law as he was fighting cancer, Max came with the house. 
His vocal chords were cut out as a puppy to stop him from barking.  This had no effect on him, but to render his bark a strangled honk of a bark. 
He had a nasty habit of dashing out the front door to bite whomever was trying to get in. 
Jehovah's Witnesses, paperboys,  even my brother in law.
He had his reasons.
Lock an animal up, cut out his voice and wonder why he wants to bite the world in the ass.  Holy anger. 
You can read more about Max on my other blog My Conversations with Dog.   They did not come any more tough than that little schnauzer.  A regular junkyard dog he was.