Scaredy Cat
Now that we've had Gracie for almost 2 months, we're starting to really get to know her personality. She's definitely got some quirks. (I can't imagine what kind of quirks she's observed about Doug, Andrew, and Alexa!) One that cracks me up, is she's a social eater. If we don't stay in the kitchen with her, she won't eat her food. If we're all at home, we all have to be in the kitchen too. Just having me, or one of the kids in there with her, is not enough. We all have to be with her. Another odd quirk, we've noticed is, she's a big ole' scaredy . . . dog.
The first time I noticed, was on a walk. (In her defense, most of her walks happen in the dark. Maybe she's just afraid of the dark?) There on the side of the road was a . . . . chair. She was slinking along behind me, while I practically dragged her by that big, scary chair. The next night, the same thing. Thankfully the trash was collected and that ghastly chair was taken and we never had to slink past it again.
One morning Doug had taken her out for a walk and she unknowingly stepped on a twig. When she heard the ensuing rustle, Doug came in with her, laughing like crazy. He said she took off like a firecracker was under her.
Last week she decided she is scared of the left side of the road, the entire way home. That's a good 3/10 of a mile distance she is scared of. If I try to make her walk on the left side, she walks behind me and I drag her along.
This morning is another example. I took her out, but she didn't complete all of her business, but she ran to the door, so I thought, "Well, maybe she only needs to do some business this morning." So I go back inside, get all snuggled up under my warm, cozy covers and I feel the eyes of a certain black lab boring into my head. I crack my eye open, and ... sure enough. There she is. Staring at me. I don't care who you are, it's hard to ignore the telepathic stares of a dog. Her face is practically eye level with me. Her ears are perked, and she's sort of swaying back and forth. I ask her, "Do you need to go outside? Do you need to go potty?" She leaps on the bed. Ok then. I get back out of bed. Go back out with her. She's wandering around in her favorite spot and is just about to go, when . . . there was a frightful sound! Rustling in the bushes!!!!!!! She took off towards the deck and refused to go to the bathroom. I had to go inside, get the leash, walk her around the yard, but she was too addled to go. Damn squirrel's. Oooh, did Doug get an earful when I got back inside.
I guess the thing that is so odd about it, is inside she's not scared of much (except the vacuum. She hates the vacuum. She runs around like it's chasing her, except I promise it's not. If she would stay in the kitchen, the vacuum would not bother her) Anyway, inside, nothing really bothers her, not children freaking out, bossing her around, running around. Not adults talking loudly to children, not yelling from one room to the next. No. None of that bothers her. Things that I could totally see, being a cause for concern. Nope. Her fears are outside.
The first time I noticed, was on a walk. (In her defense, most of her walks happen in the dark. Maybe she's just afraid of the dark?) There on the side of the road was a . . . . chair. She was slinking along behind me, while I practically dragged her by that big, scary chair. The next night, the same thing. Thankfully the trash was collected and that ghastly chair was taken and we never had to slink past it again.
One morning Doug had taken her out for a walk and she unknowingly stepped on a twig. When she heard the ensuing rustle, Doug came in with her, laughing like crazy. He said she took off like a firecracker was under her.
Last week she decided she is scared of the left side of the road, the entire way home. That's a good 3/10 of a mile distance she is scared of. If I try to make her walk on the left side, she walks behind me and I drag her along.
This morning is another example. I took her out, but she didn't complete all of her business, but she ran to the door, so I thought, "Well, maybe she only needs to do some business this morning." So I go back inside, get all snuggled up under my warm, cozy covers and I feel the eyes of a certain black lab boring into my head. I crack my eye open, and ... sure enough. There she is. Staring at me. I don't care who you are, it's hard to ignore the telepathic stares of a dog. Her face is practically eye level with me. Her ears are perked, and she's sort of swaying back and forth. I ask her, "Do you need to go outside? Do you need to go potty?" She leaps on the bed. Ok then. I get back out of bed. Go back out with her. She's wandering around in her favorite spot and is just about to go, when . . . there was a frightful sound! Rustling in the bushes!!!!!!! She took off towards the deck and refused to go to the bathroom. I had to go inside, get the leash, walk her around the yard, but she was too addled to go. Damn squirrel's. Oooh, did Doug get an earful when I got back inside.
I guess the thing that is so odd about it, is inside she's not scared of much (except the vacuum. She hates the vacuum. She runs around like it's chasing her, except I promise it's not. If she would stay in the kitchen, the vacuum would not bother her) Anyway, inside, nothing really bothers her, not children freaking out, bossing her around, running around. Not adults talking loudly to children, not yelling from one room to the next. No. None of that bothers her. Things that I could totally see, being a cause for concern. Nope. Her fears are outside.
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