Cerberus sleeps a lot on the job, if anyone needs to get into Hades.

The rain started again, caught me out at work, and it was one of those days that ends damp and cold and muddy. On these days, the dogs huddle on old saddle pads in one big plastic dog crate, a pile of small black dog that looks like a singular form, with the occasional open eye watching your every move. You look in there, and it's hard to see where heads start and legs end, nothing but a tangle of black fur. They sleep in there, rarely moving, until the end of the day, when half chaps and boots are pulled off and it sounds like time to head home.

Our little house is heated by one old wall heater, right there in the living room. On these dark, slow nights, you can hear the rain; we leave the music off. The dogs resume their huddle in the heater chair, dreaming to the quiet hiss of the dusty heater and the rain.