See, it's been getting a bit colder here, and so this weekend, during a massive garage and carport cleaning, I decided to haul what was left of the wood pellets inside, clean out the stove, and get it going. Nothing like the nice, toasty heat of a warm fire that is safely ensconced inside a metal stove.
In the morning, things usually go like this: I get up, leave Chewie sleeping (he stays crashed until about noon), and take Sugar outside. I go make or have coffee, depending on whether or not Charlie got up before me and made it. I go outside, smoke a cigarette, then bring Sugar into the office with me.
This morning, though, she got to within about 15 feet of where the pellet stove was, and froze. I tried to call her, but she wasn't budging. I walked toward her and she ran away and hid behind the couch.
Since Sugar is a smaller dog (about 35 pounds), I picked her up and carried her towards my office. When we got near the pellet stove, she started struggling to get away, and when I let her down, she RAN into my office like something was after her.
Hm. Okay, I figured this was a new thing and she's not terribly good with new things, so she'd just have to get used to it. Later, on my way outside, I went to take her with me as usual. She got to the edge of the room with the stove, then turned around and RAN up the stairs to the (closed) door of our bedroom, and huddled there like she could somehow sink through the door and away from the evil fiery fiend below.
So now, I get to carry the dog into and out of the house, or at least, carry her past the pellet stove.
I love this dog, but she is neurotic as all hell.