She’s a sweet dog, really. She looks exactly like Coconut the American Girl pup. Our dog, Olive, the white west highland terrier, fears no man, woman or dog. From a block away she picks up the nuances of the mail lady’s cart, perches on the stairs and defends. A big lumbering guy who walks by the house every evening after hoisting his German beer at Laschett’s gets the bark and a some fangs. And a dog who sniffs her unceremoniously gets attacked. So it was a total surprise when the smoke detector went off in the Man Cave and she started racing for under cover. We introduced her to the device, and let her sniff it. She ran upstairs, leaving a trail of tootsie-shaped turds through the kitchen. What’s the frequency, Kenneth? Is this thing engineered to make dogs poop? To inspire terror? Of course it is. We ripped the thing off the wall and heaved it into a snow bank. Olive’s sense of smell is pretty good too, and I’m guessing if there’s smoke or gas she’ll let us know.