Although we were on the path that doesn't get George stressed, he began to look unhappy today, and started to hang back. I tried to reassure him but to no avail. He started growling quietly and walking safely behind me.
He was frightened by the handles on a rubbish bag and a car sticking out of a drive where there isn't usually a car.
He is such a sensitive soul. I think he would make a great artist. Maybe I shall give him some paint and paper in the backyard and see what he creates. Though I fear it might be quite dark in nature. The artistic equivalent of Wagner maybe. Or perhaps I should get him a piano.
He needs some outlet for all this stress and tension he bears in silence, my poor little hero.