December 3rd, 2010
Dexter is a dog.
Like, a *real* dog. He’s big, he’s excitable, he wants only for you to give him attention, and he truly is man’s best friend.
And by “man”, I mean Dave. Regardless of the fact that is was I who raised him as a single dog-mom for the first 6 months of his life.
Anyhow, despite having German Shepherd blood in his veins, this 3 year old mutt can be scared of things.
And by scared of “things”, I mean:
- vacuum cleaners
- trash cans
- large furniture
- small furniture
- kitchen appliances
I’m not even exaggerating.
I’m sure that you can imagine that a move can be quite traumatic to a skittish dog like Dexter.
He was unsure at first, so he checked it all out from a safe distance:
I think sometimes he thinks he’s a watch dog (someone forgot to tell him that watch dogs are supposed to be brave).
And watch he did…
And when Dave was finished, Dexter became melodramatic about how difficult being a watch dog is…
Right, Dex, riiiiight.
I took the day off today to do some work, and seriously, this dog had to be within six inches of me at all times. I totally took advantage of his weakness and set the vacuum cleaner near doorways to keep him out of whichever room I was working it. Obviously, it worked.
And obviously he’s a nervous wreck now because of it. I mean, more than usual.