The dog at 311 never barks anymore

Just passed by the old brick house on Elm again. The dog — I swear, he used to be a thunderclap in a collar — hasn’t so much as yipped in months. I’d wave, he’d growl. Now? He just watches me from the porch with that same tired look. Like he’s seen too many letters go unopened. December’s coming. The lights are up. But no one’s really home, are they?