One of these dogs is inside today because she tried to scale our fence during the storm and got caught before running off into the underbrush. Perhaps there was a single clap of thunder that scared her. Or maybe someone just rolled their garbage can down their driveway to the road. Or there could have been a supernova, in a distant galaxy somewhere. Sigh. I admit it. We have a neurotic dog.
Yes, our rugged outdoor "working" border collie -- bred to be hardy and stalwart, but in reality a big bundle of over-bred crazy who probably needs a daily doggie xanax prescription -- is the crazy half of this canine dynamic duo. Look at the expressions on their faces.
Hers: "Oh pleeeeeze don't put me outside where there are loud noises, strange people and mysterious scents I don't understand! Oh gosh, I know you're gonna put me out! Nooooo!"
His: "Oh. You're here. Did you bring treats?"
The differences in their two distinct personalities just proves that no matter how strange your personality, whatever your quirks and odd habits you may have, when you come here, you're accepted, as is.
At least that's what I like to tell myself anyway, as I'm running down the road in the rain with my leash, in search of an inbred purebred dog with a clear case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Or when I'm doling out treats to a football-shaped Jack Russell Terrier, who has elevated sleeping on the sofa for hours to a kind of high art.
Accepting. Oh, ya. That's one word for it, anyway.
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