I'm walking with the dog, and he slips out of his collar and gets away. Though I call to him, "Come back this minute," he just keeps running. Everything in sight he worries at. He barks and atttacks. He is trouble through and through. There I am, perfectly calm, sane, quiet, as I watch my bad dog running away from me, never heeling or coming to me when he's called. People around me don't see how nice I really am -- they judge me by that darn naughty dog. If he sees a little squirrel, he's got to worry about it, never leave it alone, bark at it till he's exhausted or until he sees something else to go after. I keep calling him back. Sometimes I laugh at his complete disobedience, at his obsession to get right down to the root of every problem and then root around some more. But mostly he makes me feel sad and hopeless and irritated. Though I usually love dogs, this particular one I dislike intensely. If I could, I'd have him destroyed. He is a thoroughly bad dog, and his name is HD.
