Knock On Wood

Something strange has been going on around here. About two and a half years ago, Ranger interrupted his long legacy as a dog who loves to ride in the car, and turned into a neurotic freak

That's not the weird part.

Actually, his abrupt transformation made sense because he was involved, with me and two of my daughters, in a serious car accident. Luckily, no one was physically injured but Ranger has definitely struggled with some post-traumatic stress. 

HA. Anyone who has actually kept company with Ranger in a car during the past two years is snorting in with outrage and indignation right now. Because the high-pitched screeching sounds that came out of my post-accident dog's mouth can hardly be described as "a little PSTD." He has been nothing less than an ear-splitting, universe-imploding, stark-raving mad Irish lunatic. 

Trust me, that is the unexaggerated truth. 

Now, this is the weird part. Six weeks ago, without cause or explanation, Ranger's psycho behavior suddenly stopped. 

Not wore off gradually over time. 

I'm saying he inexplicably changed overnight. 

Crickets. Nothing but crickets.

For the past six weeks, my red-headed buddy is back to riding shotty with me, all day every day. He is a pure angel, dozing quietly on the middle seat while I visit my students and run random errands. Occasionally, he stands up to stretch a curious nose out the window. 

But never, ever, ever does my dog make any noise whatsoever while he is riding in the car.

And while I can't explain this amazing change of events, you can be darn sure that I am knocking on wood.