Seeing through donkey-colored glasses
I've been taking Jethro on his first walks-around-the-block, trying to get him used to the outside world. Our street is very quiet, thankfully, but every once in a while a car comes by at a stately pace. On his second outing this caused Jethro to bolt in panic. He then trotted up a neighbor's driveway, pooped there, and waited for me to take him home.
Today I managed to get his rope wrapped around a tree when a dump truck came by, and I whispered reassuring things into his ear until his panic subsided.
Then, surprisingly, he did just fine when a hound - despite its very young owner yelling "Fido, that's NOT a dog!" - came roaring towards us.
But suddenly he stopped dead when there was nothing around. I was so perplexed. Then I looked harder. It is Garbage Day. To me, garbage cans:
To Jethro, Scylla and Charybdis:
We went up to quite a few of them and investigated. Now, hopefully, they've been added to the list of things which Jethro is relatively sure will not eat donkeys.
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