My Dad is convinced my dog is going to attack him.
Or, more accurately, he is convinced she is going to rip his throat out in a murderous rage.
(Too graphic? I was going for ‘Game of Thrones’ gritty but I feel like that just sounded forced? Thoughts?)
My poor Dad is genuinely terrified of my sweet pup. It all started the first time he met her and she barked at him nervously. In her defence, he had just driven Kevin home from having his wisdom teeth out and she was very sketched out to have some strange man arrive in her new home with her family member that now smelled of blood and the dentist.
Really, you can’t blame her.
After that encounter my Dad ended up having a terrible nightmare (his words) about my dog, who he has nicknamed “King of the Seals”, killing him in a terrifying and graphic way. (Apparently Ninja resembles a boy seal? I don’t seal it … har har har)
Little Miss Menacing
It didn’t help that their second encounter involved her freaking out and growling quite menacingly at his recliner (and him in it). I’ll admit that was a less than ideal second meeting.
He is fairly traumatized.
As a loving daughter I am torn between trying to respect his fear and telling him to get over it because my doggy is the best doggy and there is no better doggy anywhere.
I mostly lean towards Option B.
As a Rescue Pup, Ninja is understandably intimidated by very tall men, and my Dad is very tall. She is cautious but warming up to him each visit, though I think she senses his fear and it makes her more nervous. In an effort to help I have offered him Ativan and muscle relaxants for their visits, but he has declined in case it dulls his reflexes when she attacks.
Alas, only time and increased exposure will help them become more comfortable with each other. (Though I doubt she will ever forgive the recliner, but in all honesty it had it coming …) In the meantime I continue to regale him with stories about my fur baby that inadvertently frighten him even more.
I suppose it would be prudent to keep any story that contains the words “she tore it to shreds!” to myself …
Ninja’s most significant casualty, my nearly 20 year old oven mitt.