Cry for help.

[That's right, it's Lammy: rock and roll legend, hot pink jet-setter, lamb-about-town, confidant to the stars.]

G and I have made jokes about the need to take our dog to a doggy psychologist, but after recent events...seriously, do you have the number of one?

My dog--my 80 pound; terrify everyone away on the street due to her height and size; growl at you if you get anywhere near her food or pet her while she's napping; who has a special, supra-evil growl for noises in the hall (potential intruders) or outside on the street (ditto); mega ferocious labrador/rottweiler mix...is afraid of clean laundry.

She's terrified of it. She could care less about the pile of dirty laundry in the hamper, but the second we walk in with the bags of clean laundry she goes into this freaky victim panic that does not subside until a good half hour after each stitch of clothing has been put away. It is the most heart-wrenching, pathetic thing I (or G) have ever seen. She, huddled in the corner, shaking; eyes watering with human-like tears. Or she follows you around, swirling her sizable, quivering body around your legs so you can't walk or move, just looks up at you with a face that says "What have I done? Why must you torture me?" Last laundry day she disappeared completely, which is a feat in a tiny one bedroom NYC apartment. You can't really lose a dog the size of a person around here. I checked both rooms in the house, opened the closets, peeked behind the shower curtain; she was gone. After the laundry had been put away, she finally emerged from behind a small wicker chair we have pushed in a corner--a chair she had to defy the laws of physics to fold her girth behind.

Recently she took it one step further. I returned with the clean laundry, threw it up on the bed for folding, when she ran to the door and began to try and CLAW HER WAY OUT--literally--huge chunks of paint then wood were scraped to the floor. I shut the door to the bedroom (where the clothes lay) pet her and kissed her and let her know everything was okay, and she calmed down. I had to wait a few hours and sneak into the bedroom when she was napping before I could put anything away. I hid what I couldn't get done before she woke.

I've given many hours of thought to what in God's name could have made her afraid of clean clothes. She's never been beaten with a Downey-fresh pair of jeans. Never been smothered with a pile of towels. To my recollection, she's never had any negative contact with laundry at all, in any respect. However it's obvious she is very seriously affected by it's presence. You should see the door. It's destroyed.

Any thoughts? Furthermore, know a good doggy shrink?

Posted by Antigeist at October 11, 2004 09:33 AM