'Fraidy Cat Dog (Updated With Photo)

My bluetick coonhound, Watson, was abandoned when he was young. From what we know he was purchased to be a hunting dog by some wealthy man up in Park City. Since Watson, though easily led by his nose like all hounds, would not hunt, he was turned out of the kennel in the middle of winter to fend for himself (and presumably die in the process). Someone found him starving in the snow and brought him to a shelter from which we adopted him. We don't know for sure how old he is though the vet's estimate is that he was around two when we acquired him. He had never been housebroken, never learned to negotiate stairs, never been inside a house. Given all of that he has turned out remarkably well. He is smart and gentle and quite loving even to our cats, especially the Maine coon cat who adores him. But he has a whole raft of phobias and neuroses that probably come from his time on his own, though they could simply be part of his personality. He is terrified of sprinklers, mailboxes, men in white hats, and as we have learned lately thunderstorms. This summer and now fall has been unusually stormy for Utah, rolling thunderstorms with dramatic lightning at least once a week. Living in the high desert, we never begrudge the water but the dog is scared to death. So I have been up since 4 am when the dog came to my door shivering and shaking and asking to be comforted. At my age I didn't expect to be an active hands-on "mother" but my 'fraidy cat dog needs me.

One of my favorite poets, the late Maxine Kumin, wrote about her adopted coonhound Virgil, ending the poem with the following:

He longs for love with all his poet’s soul.
     His eyebrows make him look intelligent.
     We save our choicest food scraps for his bowl.

That's Watson with our rat terrier Tucker.