Hubby said, "There's a storm coming. Maybe we should take the doggies early."
I normally take Princess Bonnie for a walk around the block while he plays with the others in the yard. Everything works better that way.
I said, "Sure" and we trotted down the driveway. Of course, the neighbors Pit bull terrier was out. He seems like a really sweet dog, but Bonnie wants to show him that the new girl on the block is the boss. She glared at him in the way only a dog challenging another can, he barked, and she started barking too. Pit bull's mom came out to drag him inside, and I pulled Bonnie down the road. Not a splendid start to the walk.
Then, I saw the next neighbor. He seems like a super-sweet guy. He's always smiling and saying hello, and I'm sure I'd like him if I got to know him. He is also in an electric wheelchair. Bonnie thinks every person who isn't walking on foot or in a car that's not a truck is equivalent to a fire breathing dragon.
We've worked on accepting motorcycles with great diligence and she now sits down to watch them instead of going crazy. We're also working on bikes and she's getting better at it. Here at the new place there are new things to freak out over: golf carts and the guy in the wheel chair.
Bonnie starts acting out, I tell her to sit, and attempt to explain that it's the same thing as a motorcycle, but he's sitting in it instead of on it. This in no way makes her want to kill the chair any less. She loves people, she'd probably smother the guy with huge Bonnie kisses, but the chair needs to die...
Just as I think life couldn't get any more embarrassing, a truck pulls up outside neighbor's house. A guy steps out, looking like Thor. Chris Hemsworth's Thor. He looks at me and the dog, snorts, and rolls his eyes. Great. I bet they're still talking about me.
Bonnie finally settles down and understands that there is no threat and mommy wants to continue the walk. About fifteen seconds later we pass a yard with a dog that's never been there before. He goes nuts when he sees us. Bonnie is already rallied up, and this time she's determined to get the better of her adversary.
I tell her, "If you don't come this very minute I'm never taking you for a walk again."
She understands English just fine when she wants to. She follows me. A cat runs over a yard right in front of us and Bonnie takes a tiny jump to the side as if asking, "Is it okay, mom? Can I please go get the cat?"
Do you think dogs can pout? I do. She pouts until we reach the next crossroad and she sees a man on a bicycle. His skin is so dark he almost disappears in the dusk, and it looks like the bike's light hovers in the air, approaching us at a steady pace.
Bonnie barks and lunges. She wants to kill this imaginary monster.
By now my patience is wearing thin. "Sit down! You will sit down and stop this shit right now."
She sits, but not exactly with enthusiasm.
There's one more obstacle on our way around the block; a party. There's a large group of people standing close to each other, laughing and talking. Bonnie's tail wags. She wants to go meet them. I say, "No, not tonight. I'm sorry."
She got an extra treat when we got home. She might not do exactly what I would wish for, but she is a brave girl eager to protect mom from any threat, real or imagined.