Frightened Dog

“Arrow,” I smiled, knowing I was about to make his day by saying the sacred word, “do you want to go on a walk?” I reached into the closet and pulled out the prized leash to verify I wasn’t kidding around. And there is no kidding around about the word w-a-l-k because if the word is ever said out loud, there will be dancing, prancing, tail wagging, and yeowling until it becomes reality.

He immediately confirmed his consuming desire for a walk by dancing in circles and making it nearly impossible to put his leash on. Mike opened the front door and Arrow drug me through as he seized the day. Mike and I began the fast-walk we use when Arrow is at the other end of the leash.

But, as soon as his paws hit he driveway, Arrow came to a complete and abrupt stop. Mike and I tripped over each other and looked at Arrow.

“Arrow,” Mike said, confused, “come on!”

“It’s a WALK!” I reminded him.

Arrow scrunched down onto his belly and began army crawling in reverse back toward the front door.

“What is he doing?” I asked Mike as Arrow nearly pulled his head through his collar in his haste to return to the house.

“He seems super scared of something,” Mike said.

Oh!” We both said in sudden understanding. We looked into the sky, and there it was.

A hot air balloon.

Arrow’s greatest fear.

Well, Arrow’s greatest fear besides fireworks and small barking dogs. There is no comforting or calming Arrow when a hot air balloon is around. He will cower under a table, squirm under the deck, or crouch under a bush, but he will not be out in the open where the untrustworthy balloon may fall on his head.

So, that was the shortest walk we’ve ever gone on.

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