This morning around 5am, the fire alarm went off. It was one, short, shrill blast that woke the entire house. It happens on occasion when the power goes out. Just to let us know the power was out. You know, in case we slept right through it. That alarm never fails to scare the tar out of all of us.
Monty comes by anxiety easily. His mother is a neurotic dog of the nth degree. She takes crazy and anxious to a whole new level. Like the time she was so scared of the windshield wipers that she threw herself against the window repeatedly and needed to be given large doses of Valium. Monty is the same. He does not like shrill noises, fast movements, or being confined.
As soon as the fire alarm sent it's message that all was not well with the power source, Monty was on high alert. He sat up straight in bed and listened for danger. When he felt we were not being serious enough about the issue, he would scratch at our shoulders and heads as though to remind us that perhaps we should be PANICKING.
The fire alarm didn't just go off once this morning. We could have handled once. Monty could have handled once. Instead, while the power flickered on and off for almost 4 hours, so did the fire alarm. Monty would just relax, just settle to put his head down on the pillow, when *BEEP* the alarm would go off again to signify the power had done something else. Monty sat on the bed and shook with fear of when the noise would happen again.
He's not a good guard dog, but if you ever need to panic, he's your guy.
Finally, The Guy decided he would take the chance that during the brief time the power was on, he would make himself some coffee. As The Guy headed out for the kitchen, Monty followed him close to the heel.
Let me explain that I was still in bed. Never, not once in all our year of marriage, has Monty willingly left my side if I am still in the house. That morning (while I was a bad dog mommy and slept peacefully) Monty followed The Guy every where he went. He had to be touching him at all times.
Monty was a bit off the rest of the day. Anytime I left the room, he immediately ran to The Guy for comfort. He spent the day pacing and never really settling. It was as though he was waiting for something bad to happen. Finally after supper, Monty passed out in sheer exhaustion on the couch. When The Guy went up to bed early, Monty followed without complaint.
After that kind of day, I think he needed the rest.