I'm Scared of Everything Too

I, like my dog, am scared of many things. And I too have trouble trusting people. I don't run and hide when someone starts sweeping, I'm more like 'fuck, yeah, let's clean!' but when people walk toward me, I too get confused and start to think many things. Should I smile at them? Do I look them in the eye? Is that too aggressive? Too weird? Are they going to think I'm trying to fight them? Do I want to fight them? If I fought them, would I win? What if I accidentally kill them during this fight? SHOULD I GO COMPLETELY CRAZY AND SAY HELLO??? Thankfully I can hide my anxiety better than Mitzi. I don't pull my tail between my legs and try to run in the opposite direction, I just think too much and luckily no one can hear my thoughts, right? RIGHT??!

Oh yes, I changed my dog's name from Areti to Mitzi. You see I kept stumbling every time I called her and would start thinking: Am I saying that right? What if a Greek person overhears me saying it? Will they laugh at me? Are the Greek people a cruel people by nature? And so forth.

Zero Per Cent Regal

Areti is not regal. This is a much truer representation of her personality:

She is 60% scared, 30% fun doofus, 7% squirrel hunter (in theory) and 3% farts. Those percentages adjust depending on amount of fireworks being shot off, amount of people doing the Buffalo Stance and the type of treat I have given her. Though the last variable really only affects the farting.

When I first met her, hot off a long connecting flight from Greece, she was completely stunned. She barely made a noise or moved. That soon gave way to complete and utter fear of everything around her. 

This dog had led a sheltered life interrupted by an adoption by some mega jerks who did who knows what to her. She was in a completely different country and was clearly not used to the unpredictable loudness of a city. 

Poor sweetie. I admit that I had romanticized how it would work. I thought that my love would break her out of her shell in a few weeks. I was a fool. I'm a year and a half into having her and she is currently hiding in the basement due to a recent fear she has developed of my laptop. I'll explain that later. For now, I have to go check on a weirdo.

The Stupidest Thing I Have Ever Done

In the summer of 2010 I decided to adopt a dog. Why not, right? Dogs are the best. All you have to do is feed, love and entertain them in simple ways and they are loyal for life. Getting a puppy from a breeder or pet store was not something I considered, I always knew when I got a dog it would be a rescue. I started looking at pet rescues online and almost adopted about one million dogs. Anyhoo, finally I came across the picture above. Look at that dog. She's so regal, so noble. She would stand strongly beside me as we walked from here to the apocalypse.

The contact info said: 'Tails From Greece', which seemed weird but dog rescues have weird names. I called, this dog lived in Greece. The rescue was run by a woman in Toronto who had visited Greece many times and had witnessed how poorly dogs were treated and how badly they needed help. She co-ordinated the adoption of dogs in Greece to people in Canada and Europe. This only made this dog seem more noble to me and when I inquired and found out her back story, I was in too deep to turn back.

Areti, as she was called then, was a year and a half. She had been adopted for 5 months as a puppy but the family that adopted her left her tied up outside in a body harness, one that became increasingly tight and uncomfortable as she grew. Somehow the shelter in Greece found out about this and took her back, she had lived at the shelter for most of her life. She was apparently nice and played well with other dogs but a bit sad and would sit in her cage looking melancholy most of the time. Only a cruel monster would not adopt this dog and I am at least four degrees above cruel monster.

One thing though, flying her to Canada was a big ordeal and I would not be able to meet her until she arrived. It was all or nothing. When I told my sister I was going to do it, she said it was one of the stupidest things I've ever done. Obviously she doesn't remember the time I almost broke my finger when I fell off a tequila-soaked table and into the bushes crushing my hand, which was holding a water gun at the time, beneath me.

No matter, I picked all.