When I went to bed last night, I was prepared for a night of strong thunderstorms, and the usual doggie angst that goes with that, but not the drama that ensued. All the dogs sleep in my room, in assorted dog beds scattered around with one or two or three usually on my bed. Flurry always starts out there for a cuddle while I read, but then departs for her favorite bed next to mine. I climbed into bed with my Kindle and Flurry snuggled up. Just as I got comfortable, she sat up straight, looking at the ceiling in wide-eyed terror, ears, flat, every hair standing on end. I looked up, and there was a large fly on the ceiling. It took off and so did Flurry, scared to death. You'd think it was a bat. I dutifully got out of bed, got the swatter and slayed the dragon, while Flurry watched and all the other dogs barked wildly -- the fly swatter being as alarming as the vacuum. They all went back to sleep and I thought she'd settle down, but no. She paced the room around her sleeping roommates, jumping off and on furniture, suspiciously eying the ceiling, clearly convinced that there were more evil flies where that one came from. After 30 minutes of this, I got up and dragged a crate from the other room and in she went for the night. I hope she forgets by tonight! Sigh. Who says Shelties are brave?