I'm a jumpy sort of person. Just born that way.
I avoid scary movies, dark alleys, sudden loud noises. The Fourth of July is not my favorite time of the year.
Fireworks are legal in these parts so my city has been exploding for two weeks. BANG! POP! TZZZZING! POW! With every cherry bomb I jump. Then I'm grateful that there are currently no thunder-phobic dogs here. Oh dear, then I miss the two recently departed thunder phobes. It's that breath taking moment of empty arms.
At last, the seemingly endless supply of explosives has been exhausted. The neighborhood noises have returned to the norm: softer booms and bangs of home construction; the high whine of the tuck-pointer's saw; the train a block over.
We walked extra early this morning. It's getting hot again. The geriatric crew, Fat Charlie, Mama Pajama, Easy, and I were enjoying the barely dawn quiet. We greeted a few other early morning walkers, folks in uniforms, carrying lunches, headed to the bus station to catch a ride to work.
It was peaceful.
And then, out of nowhere, THWACK! Something made a loud CRACK on the sidewalk just five feet in front of the dogs' noses. We all jumped and I let out a little shriek!
I've been walking whippets since 1992, so any sort of shock causes my hands to reflexively tighten my grip on the leashes. That's a good thing because the cause of the THWACK was the King of the Stupid City Squirrels who had fallen out of a tree right above our heads.
Think of it. You're a big fat Stupid City Squirrel. You're sitting in your tree thinking of ways to torment dogs and their humans. Oh, look, here come three dogs with mouths like alligators. Wouldn't you hang on to your branch a little tighter? Nooooo, you do a Stupid City Squirrel nanny-nanny-boo-boo dance, blowing raspberries, and fall out of your tree into the pack of dogs!
I've been extra jumpy today.
Lord knows what will fall out of the sky at us next.
hug your hounds