More sensitive than he seems

Our wild and strong R is also our sweet and sensitive R. I know that it's hard to know that from the action-packed photos that I generally show of him. Outwardly, he seems to have an indomitable spirit.

It's especially hard to imagine it when his teeth dominate a photo.

But, when R is around little boys, he can get scared out of his wits. Yesterday evening, for no apparent reason, he ended up huddled in the darkest corner of the house shaking and panting. He seemed to be in another world, enveloped in his fear. We suspect that his terror was related to the two exuberant munchkins playing in the living room but we know for a fact that nothing overtly scary had happened that evening.

He stayed in his hide-away until the boys had been gone for almost an hour.

When he was a pup, we tried our best to expose him to as many new situations as possible, including all sorts of people and children, so that he wouldn't end up with fears like this one. Last night's episode the third time that he's had a panic attack with these kids. We've been hoping that it was a phase that would pass but I'm starting to worry that it won't.

By this morning, R was back to normal and went for a romp with the Runner. K and I cross-country skiied in the forest behind our house. She bounded through the crusty snow like a puppy in the sunrise light.

Right now, the trails themselves are impossible to negotiate. The furrows that we created when we packed down the trails have been filled with hard-packed windblown snow pellets. So, K and I left the trail system and meandered through the forest. As we wandered, I spotted an animal who intrigued me. It was a large tawny animal that bounded away, and he had a black tip on his tail. It might have been a mountain lion but I didn't see him well enough to be sure. Due to the sorry windpacked state of the snow, he left no recognizable tracks. Darn.

We meandered in a different direction because K was overly interested in following that animal, whoever he was. When we hit open ground again, she ran like the wind.

These days "running like the wind" has taken on new meaning. I've rarely ever felt wind as strong as today's jet blasting off the mountains. The wind usually seems to take a brief rest around sunrise and then roars to life. Today, K didn't look happy as the wind started its assault.

Shortly later, during my bike ride, "maintained" roads were buried under gargantuan snow drifts. In open areas, it was impossible to ride a straight line or even stay upright. I was like a drunken snow biker, swerving with each gust.

Fortunately, the wind died as suddenly as it started. When it let up, I had already turned around to go home, having decided that wind was too strong for me to ride safely. Then, unexpectedly, I felt peace and quiet fall over our neck of the woods. I turned around again, and restarted my ride. It turned out to be fun despite the stormy start.

The roads had been completely deserted during the wind's onslaught. During the wind's hiatus,  people started emerging from their dens. More than one person opened their car window and yelled "you go girl"!

I love that kind of encouragement!