Bucky, Buckbeak from Harry Potter, has been loved his whole life.

He spent his first 12 weeks in a barn where he lived with his litter mates and livestock in the next stall. He was never alone if not perfectly people socialized.

When he came home with us, he slept on the bed next to me from the first night and does so still. He is a drop dead gorgeous Rough Coated Collie who everyone has to pet and love on. In fact, he quickly learned that he was everyone's favorite no matter where we went and his excitement to be around so many people who adored him is what caused him to flunk out of being a Service Dog. This did not slow down the love he got. It just opened his schedule for more people to love him. When we would go to a vending outdoor event, people who knew us knew he was under my table and would come and ask to take him running with them. He spent two summers camping with us even after he chewed all the wires off my trailer while we were packing up one weekend.

Bucky has been loved his entire life. No one has ever done a mean thing to him.

I WANT to kill him, but being mad at him for being scared is useless. Bucky is terrified of all livestock, even mine. Bucky is sure that the litter of wild kittens who were born in a wood pile are going to kill us all. He will spent HOURS looking out the window and barking at them. No amount of consoling or correcting can get him to stop. He has to be sedated for fireworks. He can't go for car rides anymore as he gets so upset he will bark until he passes out within a couple miles.

I have no idea WHERE he got PTSD. It seems to have just creeped up on him. He turned four years old in September of this year... oh the next ten years are going to be very loud...