distant relatives

As I crunched up the long, unfamiliar gravel driveway, I heard a dog bark in the distance. By the time I had pulled slowly around in a circle to park, a black dog had bounded to the corner of the yard.
We eyed each other suspiciously.
Just as he feared, I emerged from my car, my eyes on the house.
Just as I'd feared, he slunk closer, grumbling and protesting.
I debated diving back into the car.
"No barking," I warned weakly and unconvincingly.
The dog seemed alarmed and barked sharply. It crept around behind me, a low growl rumbling in its throat.
My nervousness was clearly unnerving him as well.
A part of me isn't the least bit afraid of anything but that part is very, very small and there is a larger part of me that is scared of anything that moves, especially if it also barks.
Fortunately, a child emerged from the house and gave me the necessary moral support to cringe my way to the door un-nipped.
Confidence and courage are cousins, but unfortunately they're only distant relatives of mine.