We used to have a big Rhodesian Ridgeback-type dog named Hugo. Hugo was a gentleman, even to the household cats, but you'd never know it by his bark, a ferocious, roaring basso.
Hugo's special concern was thunderstorms, from which he dutifully tried to guard the household:
We close the windows and the doors,
Prepare for rain today,
As Hugo banks into the wind
To hold the storm at bay.
Hugo was my special dog, and he knew it.
And I was the one who found him dead before his time in our backyard. His mouth was foaming. There was trouble in the neighborhood at the time and I think he was poisoned.
An ignoble end to a noble spirit.