Lula is not a brave dog. Today she had an encounter with a large plastic bag caught in the trees beside the path. It waved threateningly in the wind and wouldn’t let her past. She stood on one side of it and I stood on the other and called her. Her ears went up, then they went down, she eyed the bag and started to creep past, giving it a wide berth. A gust of wind made it crackle and flap and she leapt back to starting point and stood on the alert until it had become still again. Then she gathered her courage and rushed past, watching it all the time in case it tried to pounce. On the way home she passed it with scorn, knowing that she had braved the danger, and survived.