rocks on the brain

There was a month, sometime in Maya's first year of living with us, when she became absolutely terrified of rocks.  Not all rocks, just round, light-colored rocks between the size of my fist and the size of a large cantaloupe, and only if they stood out from their surroundings in some way.  It was a very specific phobia, and I have absolutely no idea what precipitated it.  What I do know is that we'd be walking down the sidewalk (itself a pretty hair-raising adventure, at that point in time) and Maya would suddenly freeze, tuck her tail, and cower.  I'd look around, trying to spot some trigger, and then follow her wide eyes to a baseball-sized rock sitting in the road.

Dogs come up with the weirdest things.  Before we adopted Maya, we discussed a long list of potential behavior issues, ranging from things we thought we could handle (not house trained) to things we couldn't (aggressive to humans). Which was a great conversational exercise, but not exactly rooted in reality -- dogs don't come with "issues" resumes, and our perception of what did or did not constitute a manageable issue was fairly naive.

Imagine if dogs did come with complete records on all their little quirks.  I don't know if it would increase adoption rates, as people felt confident in what they were getting, or decrease them, as people shied away from all the weirdness.  I know some rescue groups are able to provide some of that information, but I still feel like dog ownership is full of surprises.

Does "loves broccoli, hates doves, once had a mysterious, yet highly specific, geological phobia" sound like a good fit for your home?  Not that I'm offering, of course.