This morning it is raining and the light blue rug just outside the sliding glass door leading into the kitchen/dining area is slowly turning black as Misha runs her pattern in the yard, then stops and looks into the kitchen, keeping track of what I'm doing. Thus far she's refused to come close enough to take the chicken I hand her, even though I crouch to her level.
No sudden moves around this dog, as she is constantly ready to flee.
Howling, only several incidents. One around midnight several nights ago, and then in the morning when Joan and I leave for work. The neighbors say it doesn't last long, and they don't mind. A new room-mate at Art & Jo's thought there was a wolf outside the house.
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