I have a tough dog. She is one fierce chienne. She has successfully defended me against Scanner Dan (weird Madison personality who listens to a scanner and shouts at people), a rogue painter who dared walk on our grass (she actually bit him), and the maintenance lady of the apartment building.
Yep, she's bad. And she knows it.
Except, however, when it comes to one thing. Her evil nemesis.
Whenever he shows up, she is reduced to an embarrassing state of cowardice.
Tonight, I tried to snag a picture of her in her hiding place, which is as far away as she can get in this tiny apartment.
But she was, alas, too proud, and wouldn't let me catch her huddled on the bathmat. She braved coming outside of the bathroom just to appear strong and brave.
And whom, you ask, could scare such a dog?
May I present... Monsieur Evil, himself.
The ironing board.
Run Away! Run Away!