Bailey the Conqueror

I've come to the conclusion that my dog is nuts. 

Not in the fun, oh-look-at-the-way-she-lays-on-her-back-and-chews-her-toenails cute way of nuts, either.  I'm talking about full-fledged, certifiably crazy.  If she were a human, she'd be on a therapist's couch somewhere explaining what went wrong in her early puppyhood and how the cat just doesn't understand her.

We adopted Bailey at the age of two from a family who could no longer handle her exuberant personality and frequent sprints out the back door.  At the time, a friend suggested quite poignantly that her running away meant she was trying to find me.  While I doubt that a creature who derives much pleasure from licking her own butt could formulate such a plan, we haven't had a problem with her running away in the three years we've had her.

Bailey is a great dog but she has a few issues.  Like many other dogs, she doesn't like thunder, fireworks, or loud noises of any kind.  She will stay glued to the leg of the nearest human until the storm passes or the noise is gone.  Fortunately, her loud noise anxiety only presents itself a few times a year.  Her fear of our living room ceiling fan is another matter entirely.

When we brought Bailey home for the first time, she refused to come into our living room for three weeks.  We had no idea why and just assumed it was because she was getting adjusted to our family.  Who could blame her?  Our family is definitely an acquired taste, one that's best eased into, especially if no tequila is available.

We figured out that the ceiling fan was the culprit when Bailey eventually came into the living room (to throw up on the newly-cleaned carpet, of course.  Barf is my life.)  We noticed that every time she was in the living room, she'd constantly look up at the ceiling fan.  Although the fan was stable and didn't make noise, its presence concerned Bailey.  Was she afraid of it falling on her?  Did her other family chase her around with one? 

Weeks passed and Bailey finally stopped paying so much attention to the fan.  Her acceptance of the fan  continued for over two years until that ceiling fan quit working and we had to replace it with a new one.  Once again, Bailey refused to come into the living room.  Apparently she didn't like the fact that this new fan is a dark wood color whereas the old fan was all white.  Who knew that dark wood ceiling fans are the natural enemy of the Labradoodle? 

We kept the fan turned off so that Bailey could get used to it without the worry of those spinning blades.   When she finally began coming back into the living room, she was even more cautious than she'd been with the old ceiling fan.  She'd glance up at it frequently as if to let it know she was keeping her eye on it and that it shouldn't try anything funny.

All was good until last week.  A blast of summer-like weather forced us to (gasp!) turn the fan on.  As expected, Bailey ran out of the living room and refused to set one paw back in it.  She wouldn't even walk to the back door in the kitchen because she could see the reflection of the spinning fan blades on the hardwood floor in the hall.

We tried tempting her with food.  We tried luring her with toys.  No luck.  She even refused to greet visitors in the living room because of her ceiling fan fear.  She was terrified of that ceiling fan and it didn't appear that anything could change her mind.

Then a funny thing happened:  we had a thunderstorm.  It wasn't a quick little thunderstorm either.  This one lasted for nearly an hour.  The thunder was loud and booming.  Streaks of lightning filled the sky.  Rain drummed loudly against the windows.  

Bailey was terrified and remained glued to my side.  She shook mightily as if someone had set her to the 'vibrate' position.  She was so worried about the storm that she walked with me into the living room, completely oblivious to the ceiling fan that she'd feared only moments before.

Apparently, dogs, much like people, don't respond to the lure of their favorite things in convincing them to move past their fear.  Sometimes, when the fear is deep, momentum is best achieved from the looming threat of something we fear even MORE.   I'm still working on this concept in my own life, but Bailey managed to figure it out herself.

Maybe she's not so crazy after all.