She spent most of last night hiding out beneath my old straw hat.
“Make it stop!” she pleaded after briefly coming up for air.
Or maybe it was when she came up for her own red, white and blue Popsicle…
Anyway, to avoid further traumatizing our ‘gracefully aging’ diva, I was careful to hide the grilled hot dogs underneath a napkin as they came off the grill.
It seems cooked dogs also terrify Greta.
As well any wiener dog references.
To finally help settle her rattled nerves, and mine from high pitched shrieking every time she heard a bottle rocket, I offered up a bribe.
“How about a little steak Friday night if you settle down right now, Greta?” I queried.
“How about ALOT?” she countered, batting those long black lashes right up at me.
I let her win as usual.
There’s just no arguing with a five pound firecracker.