One Good Way to Traumatize Your Dog. Oops.

We have officially given Ollie a phobic disorder. How did we do it? Starvation? Abandonment? Neglect? No. We did it goofing around with my exercise ball.





Looks innocent enough, right? But now imagine being Ollie's size (< 20 lbs) with this thing chasing you down the stairs at full speed. He must have felt like Indiana Jones in that famous rolling-ball scene. Now just the sight of this thing sends him into paroxysms of fear. I pulled it out to distract Peter while blow-drying my hair this morning (see my post Baby-proofing and Beyond -or Not) and Ollie ran for his life. I found him cowering in the tiny space between the toilet and the wall, trembling visibly. And I wouldn't describe Ollie as a particularly fearful dog. Heck, he used to jump up and try to bite "red ball" (which really was a funny sight - Ollie trying to open his mouth wide enough to get a grip on the thing) back in the day when we used it all the time (no, not for exercise, not for tormenting puppies, but for endlessly bouncing a colicky Peter -much to the detriment of our backs). So we've really done a number on Ollie this time. The only upside is that he won't go near the guest room when we store the exercise ball in there. And the only question remaining is how many long years of psychological therapy will it take to undo the damage? That, and, if this experience is any sort of indicator, who now thinks we are mature enough to be parents? Anyone? Anyone?...