Today I had planned to tell to you about my new sweater. I had even written a haiku in preparation.
After hours spent alone in my kennel, composing haiku’s in honour of my new sweater, mum finally came home from work and let me out. She promised to come out with me, but after she opened the door, something stopped her. What was it?
A dead vole on the back step, just outside the door.
I was already to come in and she still hadn’t stepped out. She started acting really weird, like breathing real hard and shaking. I tried to show her it was no big deal by ignoring as I jumped on the door to come back. Well, I don’t think she liked that either. She made me back up and kinda jumped out the door.
She was better once she got outside and into the yard. But when it came to letting me back in she got scared again. After a forever amount of time, with the help of a shovel & a couple of garbage bags, mum finally got put the vole in the garbage bin and came inside.
Why are you scared of a little dead mouse?
It’s a vole, and I just am.
But…. it’s dead. It can’t hurt you.
I know, but I can’t help it. It’s a phobia.
We looked up the word phobia on dictionary.com
pho·bi·a – A persistent, irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to a compelling desire to avoid it.
I don’t think I have any phobias. There are things that scare me: new places, new people, hyperactive dogs running over me at the dog park. My humans always help me understand that they will not let anything hurt me, but I still get scared sometimes.
Mum says if anything like the Vole Incident ever happens again, I am not allowed to help her with her phobia by getting rid of the dead mouse, er vole for her. This is something she usually gets my favorite male human to help her with. So I’d like to say to The Will, if you are reading this, you gotta make the snow come real soon so you can come home, just in case.
Mum says she’s trying real hard not to think about that silly vole, so to distract her I will recite my haiku after all.
Cold front blowing in
my winter fur yet to grow
fuzzy sweater warms