I heard my dog bark for the first time today. Sure, she does the occasional yip when she's in the back yard and wants to come in, but nothing other than that. Not when someone comes to the door, not when other dogs bark at her, not at cats. Not even when we were attacked by a pit bull. In that case, she just put herself between my son and me and the other dog, put her head down to protect her neck and dug in. This morning at the train station, though, she was sitting in her seat and looking out the window, as usual, when she spotted a guy crossing the street toward the trains. Normal looking: grey hair, khakis, briefcase, U of U wind shirt. Lulu took one look at him and stiffened. First there was a low growl, then a volley of deep, chest bursting barks. It made my hair stand on end. It was like a time I saw a woman taunting the tiger at the zoo: he stood it for as long as he could, then let out a roar that froze me in my tracks and made my mouth go dry. (Then he let go with a jet of hot, stinking pee that drenched her from mid chest to thighs
). Anyway, my first impulse was to pull my daughter off the train, and I probably would have if I didn't see the guy walk toward a car and get in.
So. That was my hump day morning.