Why I Hate People, part 3012

Abbie Lynn had some quirks when I got her. A waving flag overhead would send her into a crouch-run that lasted for six blocks or more. Other things that freaked her out:

• School buses
• Nail guns
• Compressor noises
• Tennis racquets
• White work trucks
• Trash trucks
• The vacuum
• Teenage guys

We have slowly worked our way through most of these. She’s fine with school buses (she sits so cutely and politely as soon as she sees one, waiting for her treat) and the compressor behind the local qwik-mart. White work trucks still make her lunge in fury about 20 percent of the time. I wouldn’t trust her with a teenage boy – she seems to want to challenge them and will leap up aggressively toward their faces – not attempting to bite, but more to knock them over.

The vacuum, I believe, is forever an enemy. Her brain completely short-circuits when it is on, to the point that I put her outside so I can clean the floors. Even then, when I open the door and let her in, she will come in and attack the now-silent vacuum cleaner.

The one thing I did not anticipate having to socialize her about, though, is a bicycle with a toy squeaker as a horn. What? Yep, we encountered this yesterday – an old dude on a bike who had hooked a squeaker, like the kind found in dog toys, to his handlebars like a horn, and was repeatedly squeaking it at every dog he saw.

I don’t think he meant malice – I think he thought it was funny. Abbie, fortunately, just gave him a good hard look, being a not-particularly-squeaker-focused dog. I can imagine other dogs completely losing their composure, though.

I didn’t walk over and talk to him, but I was seething with fury, something I believe he saw in my face as I gave him the death glare. I could ask “What is wrong with people?” but I don’t know if anyone could properly explain that behavior.