The fantasy of the ever vigilant goatdog

I went up to feed my faithful goatdog Zip at dusk last night He was not around, so I left his food in the usual bowl This morning I checked, and it had not been touched I went hunting the goats, finally finding them under some shady trees But no Zip He had been eaten by coyotes! Testosterone had wandered him off (I had been warned)! Or perhaps he was lying injured, unable to woof Somehow I was failing my dogs My heart sank I wandered around – perhaps this ever alert guard dog was on higher ground surveying the scene, watching me even as I was looking for him Then I noticed a small patch of white in the grass not far from the goats My heart sank again Was it perhaps his limp body? I went closer He opened his eyes out of deep sleep, got to his feet, and walked off/ Then he turned around: “Is there some problem” he asked?