Although she has definitely found her voice, and is somewhat noisier now than when she left the animal shelter and came home with us in late November, she is not a yappy little dog. We are very grateful. I visited some friends Sunday who have a miniature Pinscher. They threw her outside when I arrived and she barked just about continuously for the 90 minutes I was there. I don’t know how they stand it.
At any rate, we have come back from our morning walk, Miss Molly is resting comfortably on the porch, I have settled down in my chair and am working away... and all is well.
And then suddenly it isn't. A barrage of frenzied barking shatters the peaceful morning. She has gone ballistic.
I heave myself to my feet, order my knees to cooperate – they seem to stiffen up after I have exercised and then sit down – and I make my way out to the porch to judge the scale of the threat we might be facing.
I expect she is barking at a squirrel or perhaps a chipmunk. But she is not staring up into the trees, she is staring down the driveway.
I look down the driveway in the direction she is staring. Now that I am there to appreciate her vigilance, the volume increases.
Look Out! Alert! Danger!
A box turtle is about to cross the driveway.