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I was at my drawing board, near a window with a view of our parking lot, while Ginger slept at my feet. Suddenly she sat up and started growling. The hair on her back stood straight up as she suddenly dashed to the front door, barking ferociously all the way. Then she started clawing at the door with the barking becoming louder and more intense.
Well, I could neither see nor hear anything unusual going on in the parking lot, much less anything near our door. I did see a car entering the far end of the lot, which looked like it might be coming in our general direction—but nothing else.
The car was moving hesitantly, as though its driver was looking for an address. Eventually it came to a stop in front of our shop. By now Ginger had become a raving lunatic who looked as though she might actually claw her way through the front door.
A young woman started to get out of the car, but suddenly turned pale and jumped back in, slamming the door behind her. She just sat there, appearing to be petrified with fear. Naturally, I went out to talk to her, but it took all the strength I could muster to keep Ginger from following.
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The woman rolled her window down a couple of inches, and I asked if I could help her.
"I came to buy some things," she said in a trembling voice, "but you've got a dog in there."
"Ginger?" I said. "No problem—she's harmless—but I'll put her in the bathroom if you'd like."
"No, you don't understand," she said. "Dogs don't like me. This happens everywhere I go. They always find a way to get at me. I can't go in there!"
I could hardly believe what was happening and really didn't know what to say. Finally, I told the woman that I would bring out whatever she needed. Well, I was able to fill the lady's order without her leaving the car—and Ginger didn't calm down until the woman had been gone for at least ten minutes.
To this day I have no idea how Ginger managed to sense the arrival of that woman when she first entered the parking lot—about the length of a football field from our door.
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