In 2008 I began a series of blog posts entitled The Muffin Saga about my dear of doggie friend of 14 years, Muffin. There are 15 parts to the story of Muffin and my family and me. After numerous requests, I am again publishing the series, one part each Sunday for 15 weeks. I promise this time to complete the saga by adding parts XVI and XVII.
It didn’t take long for Muffin and I to become friends. She still maintained her anxiety when adult males were around, but somehow removed me from that category. Perhaps that was because she so often saw me in my liturgical robes, apparel that even some humans have confused with a woman’s dress.
Baseball caps were another matter. She remained terrified of them. One day six weeks or so after Muffin became a member of our family, I left the parsonage to play a round or two of golf. I owned a baseball cap that displayed the logo of the golf club where I was to play and, not thinking about Muffin’s aversion, wore in out the door. Muffin was playing in the fenced in yard of the parsonage and church, so I called her to go inside. By now she came to me when I called her name; however, as soon as she saw the baseball cap on my head, she stopped and literally backed up.
It was then that I remembered the cap, took it off, and placed it on top of my golf bag, which I had leaned against the house beside the front door. Muffin then came to me; I petted her, and opened the door to the house. But Muffin wouldn’t go through the door. She walked around the porch but avoided the doorway.
It took me a few seconds to understand her behavior: the baseball cap sitting atop my golf bag could possibly be interpreted by Muffin as a person wearing the dreaded cap standing beside the door. I removed the cap from atop the golf bag and Muffin happily entered the house.