The only thing happier than a three legged dog, is a four legged dog.
I think that’s from Louie? My dog Scout is a terrier, and I’m beginning to understand that just means she’s stressed out most of the time. She doesn’t like going out in the snow because it cakes her paws, and when she’s inside, she’s constantly vigilant, looking out for intruders or friends.
When the door opens, or even creaks, or sometimes when it has made no sound at all, she snaps to attention and barks, it’s more of a shriek. The fascinating thing is that I don’t believe anyone unkind has ever set foot in any home she has ever lived in.
This is not a rescue dog.
She is the furthest thing from a rescue dog.
Is it genetic?
Pavlovian?
Bad luck?
Are there ghosts I’m unaware of?
Are reflections actually terrifying if you’re 20lbs?
It makes me wonder what sort of things I respond to for absolutely no reason, and in the most uncomfortable way for myself and everyone around me.
