I like my dog.
No, I take that back. I LOVE my dog.
I hate all other dogs, including your dog.
I am very sorry if that hurts your feelings, but I thought you should know.
It has nothing to do with you, it's me.
Before you think I'm a big meanie, there are reasons I feel this way.
1963 - Patches the neighbor dog.
Big. Black fur. Yellow teeth. Not sure of the breed.
Looking through 4 year-old eyes, he was The Big Bad Wolf.
He lived with a teenage boy who thought it was really funny to yell sick-em while I was out playing in my driveway.
The Wolf loved this "game" and would do as he was commanded.
He came at me with his fangs bared until Ethel, the teenage boy's mother, would yell out the window David, knock that off!!!
It scared me to death.
I may have peed my pants a time or two.
1965 - Timmy, the dog who lived two doors down.
Resembled the cute little breed on the Cracker Jack box.
And yet, Timmy was not so cute. He had issues.
Owned by two senior citizens who treated Timmy like the son they never had.
(Actually, they did have a son -- Casey who was 35 years old living in the basement.)
Timmy hated all children, and his basement dwelling brother.
I think he was jealous that Casey got to wear cloths, and he did not.
Once he hopped two fences just to come over and pay us a visit.
Not a friendly visit.
Timmy's mother said
Oh, Timmy, you be nice now
as Timmy bit my ankle and made it bleed.
1971 - My very first babysitting gig for a cool young couple with an adorable toddler who lived around the corner.
I rang the bell and Susan appeared at the front door wearing a white eyelet dress.
At her feet, a tiny little white poodle dancing in circles.
He was the cutest thing.
I walked inside and Susan showed me around while Poodle trailed behind us.
I could hear the little bell on his collar jingle as we went from room to room.
As I was standing there listening to instructions, my foot suddenly felt warm.
I looked down and noticed that my white anklet sock was bright yellow.
I was so embarrassed, that I didn't say a thing.
I wasn't brave enough to utter the words Um. Your dog just peed on me. Do you have a towel?
I stood there with one leg behind the other until Susan and her handsome husband drove off into the sunset.
Then, I took my socks off and threw them outside in the garbage can.
I smelled like pee and my pointed white keds smelled like pee too.
I decided right then and there that I would never own a poodle.
This same thing happened every time I babysat for the cool young couple.
I finally had to give up the job -- it just wasn't worth the .15 cents an hour.
Plus, my mother got mad at me for losing all my socks.
1993 - Date with Matt at a co-workers house for dinner.
Co-worker and his Mrs. had a gi-normous Boxer -- their baby.
The dog even had his own bedroom.
When standing on his hind legs Baby was taller than me by at least a foot.
I walked in the door and he jumped on me and knocked me to the floor.
Mr. Co-worker thought that was cute.
The dog spent the entire evening with his arms around my neck (more like a headlock) as we all sat in the living room and talked . . .
for 3 hours . . .
I left covered in slobber.
Did I mention that I had to make the meal because Mrs. Co-Worker cut her hand on a knife and fainted?
Worst. Date. Of. My. Life.
Matt still owes me for that one.
And that brings us to yesterday, September 16, 2011.
Elphie was long overdue for a haircut so I took her over the the Pet Smart Grooming Salon.
I walked in the door and set Elphie on the counter as I gave the stylist all of her pertinent information.
Stylist: Current on shots?
Stylist: On a flea program?
In walks a lady with a humongous Rottweiler, a dog so large that I thought to myself, there is no way that woman can control that thing on her own.
I was right.
The minute that dog was inside the door, he jumped on my back, and wiped his face on my new shirt.
(Did I mention that I was on my way to lunch with a friend?)
His mother said Oh you scamp, as the dog breathed all over my butt with his crusty nose.
I was most annoyed.
I handed Elphie over to the stylist and turned to walk out the door.
Ever so sweetly, Rotttweler lady said, Be careful where you step!
I looked down and saw my feet standing in a pool of pee.
Not a small pool mind you, a huge one . . . large enough in which to do a load of laundry . . . if it was water . . . not pee.
I ask you, how could that woman just stand there and pretend that her dog did not do that?
Did I mention I was wearing flip flops?
This time I was brave and asked the Pet Smart stylist for a towel.
There's a pee theme running through this story.
I didn't even discover that until just now.
It's sort of like a breakthrough you might have in therapy.
At least I think it's like a breakthrough you have in therapy.
I wouldn't know about that.
But I do know that I hate dogs that pee on me.
Three rules that I wish all dog owners should follow:
1) If your friend, neighbor, co-worker has a panicked or angry look in their eyes, it means that they do not enjoy the affection, or dis-affection of your dog. Put him in the other room please.
2) Take your dog for a walk before you get him groomed so that he can do his business in a bush.
3) Pick up the poop you leave on my lawn. I hate stepping in that too.
That's all I have to say about dogs.
I hope you will still be my friend.