Frederick, master of ambush

This is Frederick. He lives on Brook Street. In the early morning, from his porch, he spies my dog Laika and I approaching from the east. He does not like this. But at the same time, there's the thrill of the hunt, which is, after all, thrilling.

Frederick does not sound the alarm. No - he has a plan, and it involves Silence and Stealth. He is slingshot-fast. So fast that the human eye cannot trace his path. Now, he is crouched behind his Shrubbery (which I suspect he has - with the help of his master's pruning shears - optimized into The Perfect Disguise).

Here is what Frederick would look like, if you took his Shrubbery away:

I have been duped by Frederick one too many times, and now, understanding his wily ways, I cross the street. This disappoints him, accustomed as he is to winning his nasty little game. He was so looking forward to transforming into the dog version of one of those terrifying samurai throwing stars, scaring the very soul out of my dog and I, and then slamming into the chain link fence at waist level. At that point we would realize the assault was really all in jest, because Frederick would stand, dust himself off, and trot back to the porch for a snack from his kibble dish, and a wait for the next unwitting opponents.

[Frederick (that fiend!) and I are pleased to take part in Illustration Friday's "Suspense" theme this week.]