My dog hates me

As of late the Deefs has found it fit to cower and hide under Suzy's desk when I come home. This is not cool. She use to poke her head out the door when she heard my truck coming into the driveway. She wouldn't run out until I turned the truck off. (I let the turbo cool for a minute before I shut down the oil burner... It's a diesel thing...chicks wouldn't understand)

Once the truck is off and I came walking into sight, she'd start wagging her stump while keeping a straight face. I don't think she knows she has a poker tell... please don't tell here if you see her, it's one of the cutes things a pup can do. The tail tells all...Back to the picture story....

I'd get half way up the drive way, the dog is still straight faced. She would ease out of the door way, hunkered down like she was hunting me. I'd jump into the "ready for anything, hands in front of me ready for a take down kind of squat" and then freeze.

A stare down to the death would ensue. Neither would blink, neither would budge, first one to move was a big fat looser.

I would win half the time, and she'd break into a full out sprint. I'd do my best Joker laugh as she came barreling in. She'd put the stoppers on right in front of me, never able to skid to a stop with anything less than ramming speed. Sometimes I'd move out of the way and she'd skid right by and pull the classic Willey Coyote move and double back. You know the move that the Coyote would pull as he left Terra Firma, missing the Road Runner, and running off the cliff. She was still in skid mode flying past me and trying to run back to me all at the same time, she's still moving away from me, but doing her darnedest to grab traction with her 4 little paws to hit the bulls eye, I call my shins.

We'd unite, I'd pick her up, smack her on the hollow chest making an obnoxious thud, as I'd tell her "you a good girrrrl". All was good until I let her down. She'd immediately hunker down again, and scan the yard for the evening rabbits.

As of late, she no longer gives me the poker face with the poker tell of a wagging sausage, she doesn't even come to the door to investigate... She knows it's "the one". It's that guy with the loud paintball gun.

I made the mistake of firing off a couple of paintball rounds. No not at her, but she was standing around me and it must shocked her. She hates noises now, she hates the pop of a new Snapple or Starbucks bottle, she runs if something falls off the counter, and she cowers in her corner when I come home.

I need help, I want my knuckle-headed happy go lucky dog back.