Learning the Ropes

I've got a lot to learn about being a master...a dog master, that is.

I'm scared of dogs. But I'm not scared of Buddy. Buddy luvs me. (Shhhh, I kind of luv him back).

Last week I frantically flagged down Brita's friend's dad (the horror...there goes mom embarrassing her kid not in front of her friend, but in front of her friend's dad this time), as he was pulling out of his driveway to weepingly and frantically request that he rescue me from the at-large dog that was "attacking" us and wouldn't stop following us. I ran home at record-breaking speed while the vicious dog dared not pass the barrier created by the body of Brita's friend's dad. Bless him.

Jared says I should have let Buddy take him on instead of making Buddy the weak one. If I hadn't been so afraid, they probably would have just sniffed each other's bums, frolicked around for a few minutes, and then we could have been on our way.

Now I'm afraid to take Buddy outside. I don't want to be charged by anymore loose dogs who show their teeth and try to take control.

So I read a book about how to read dogs signs. All the book did was get me worried about our dog. Now I'm convinced that Buddy's stressed. Now Jared is completely convinced that I'm crazy...given that this is how Buddy spends 90% of his time at home:

That looks like the picture of stress to me!

...Maybe I am crazy.