Just…Dogs and Dogs Adjacent.

It’s a running joke and constant exasperation in our house that Minerva, being a fur-carrying Great Pyrenees, barks at all the things.

All. The. Things.

Minerva protects our property from golf carts, foxes, crows, deer (she and Ragnar are convinced the deer are plotting all our deaths), coyotes, delivery trucks coming up our driveway, delivery trucks going to the golf course across the street, snowplows at 4am (sigh)…

High school students invading our home, including the ones who live here (which results in immediate “oops, sorry, I love you” behaviors).

ANYONE else who doesn’t live here apart from four exceptions. Minerva is a banshee who has to be locked in the bedroom or put outside when guests are over, because she’s gotten more nervous and territorial as she’s gotten older, despite being well socialized at doggy daycare (she has no problems with other people or dogs in public, only at home) and going out for fun trips and walks. I don’t know why. It’s frustrating, but she had a tough start to life, so I suspect she has some wires crossed and some trauma reactions.

Birds of prey flying overhead (which I actually appreciate because 1: I think it’s cool she notices them and 2: hollering about them protects fAngus).

Interestingly, when Ragnar is somewhere else and Minerva sounds the alarm with furious barkage, he comes running from wherever he is and joins the barking until he discerns the threat level. I appreciate that about the old man: he’s a ride-or-die packmate who backs her up without fail until he determines he’s not needed, then he chills out because he’s just not as high strung as she is. He seems to be able to determine from the tone and volume whether it’s something he needs to help with or not: he never barks along when she alerts to the snowplow or delivery trucks going next door, for example. But sometimes he runs out of here like he’s strapping on a weapon ready for battle. It’s wild.

He does, however, howl the terribly mournful song of his people when the delivery trucks in our driveway or over at the golf course back up and their beepers beep. Minerva, also a loyal girl, sings along in harmony. I’m sure the golfers love our house. In Minnesota the whole state tests the warning sirens (generally used for tornadoes/bad storms) on the first Wednesday of every month at 1pm. So much canine singing happens that day. So much singing.

Minerva also howls along when anyone plays their instruments in this house. When I play cello and it’s squeaky, she howls, tucks her ears, and runs away. Dogs are nothing if not honest in their feedback.

When Minerva wants attention, she asks gently by punching you in the face, chest, or leg with her paw. If there’s space on the couch or chair, she’ll jump up, turn, and slam her body down against your legs as hard as possible, like she’s getting her pillows dented the right way.

When Ragnar wants attention, he turns around, backs up as close to the chair or your feet as possible and sits down. If he can, he’ll sit on your feet so you can’t move. Then he leans in. He weighs about 100 pounds: you aren’t going anywhere.

When fAngus, who is an honorary dog and is often treated like one by the others, wants attention, he decided to go full cat: he meows and stays infuriatingly just out of reach because usually what he really wants is to be let out, to get a snort of catnip, or to play with one of his toys. He will occasionally lead me to the bedroom (where the dogs aren’t allowed but he snoozes all day) and will reach out to very gently touch my arm with one paw until I lie on the bed with him so he can basically pet himself under my hand, purring like an engine and drooling until he’s had quite enough interaction, thank you, and he goes to the opposite end of the bed to give himself a bath. He’s a particular little dude.

I have no good ending to this post, just as I had no real point to this post. Ragnar is ensconced on his favorite couch, dead to the world. Minerva is doing her regular alarm bark at golfers, which must have specific meaning because after the first check Ragnar just twitches his ears like he’s listening for updates but doesn’t run out to join in the barkage. It’ll be slightly quieter when the leaves grow in and block some of her view. fAngus is watching over his Catdom from the roof of the garage (under the overhang where no bird could get him…he’s no dummy).

So, totally normal day I guess?