It is the most distrustful dog I have ever encountered. You can understand it if you listen to the stories of how people treated it. But let's not talk about the sad stuff.
It was already dark outside, the moon was illuminating the neighborhood, and the loud crunch of snow was evidence of a hard frost. I walked into the garage where I worked. She was inside, in fact she was homeless, but had been living here lately, sometimes disappearing for days on end.
She was sleeping on an old couch. Her muscles were contracting rapidly, as if she was running somewhere. Why, to whom? Or from whom? I watched her quietly so as not to disturb her sleep. I wondered what she was dreaming. Then her body went quiet and relaxed. She must be starting to have a good dream.