Bob Dreizler's Resources: Confessions of a Dog Disliker
Confessions of a Dog Disliker
The topic of getting a dog came up again at dinner last night. On the assumption that our family is a democratic institution, my daughter called for a vote. Three of us voted for a dog and one was opposed.
I exercised my parental veto power. Next, in typical fatherly fashion, I proposed an unreasonable alternative, "me or a dog". "Dog", said Sonya immediately. Her younger brother Ross quickly agreed. My wife is a discrete woman who always had a dog when she was growing up. She said nothing.
I don't hate dogs; I just don't feel that mysterious fondness most people feel for them. I wouldn't wish discomfort or ill health (except occasional laryngitis) on any canine. It is not my intent here to demean anyone's petly preference; I just thought dog lovers should be aware of people like me.
Even some dog owners have prejudices against certain breeds. Middle-sized dogs seem to be the most universally accepted. The ones that usually bother people are small, hyperactive and bug-eyed. It doesn't help that they continuously make noises like a broken video game.
During introductions at a friend's front door I feign graciousness as their dog drools on my trousers. I try to look undisturbed as the little cur hungrily licks my face once I sit down. But when their pet shatters my Martini glass with its frantic tail, my third "How cute" comment begins to sound insincere.
As a kid I watched Lassie and Rin Tin Tin on TV. Not only were they great dogs, they only stayed for half an hour.
Lassie never stealthily left her memoirs on anyone's front lawn. She never barked perpetually at 3 in the morning unless a wild coyote was about to attack. And Rin Tin Tin didn't sniff the genitals of everyone who walked into the fort.
During my quiet walks on summer nights, the stillness is shattered too often by the hysterical barking of a deranged Doberman. I just know it would love to tear me limb from limb just to impress its master with its guard dog skills.
Large dogs with names like "Spike" or "Manson" seem to cultivate that deep and authoritative John Wayne-like bark. Such a bark triggers a chain reaction of howling pets that extends to the outskirts of the city.
At times I even get jealous of dogs. Beautiful women who wouldn't notice if you were turning purple and needed of the Heimlich Maneuver will come up to any huge, rabid-looking creature and scratch its belly.
Most of my complaints are aimed more at irresponsible dog owners than their innocent pets. These people are blessed with ears that can not hear the incessant midnight yapping of their pet. Others are as consciously oblivious of their pet's droppings as smokers are of their cigarette litter
.I guess it's my timid personality that prefers quiet, less demanding pets. Dogs are so full of energy. They constantly want to play ball or go somewhere. My children are exhausting enough. I prefer cats, fish, birds and hamsters; they let you relax and require little emotional maintenance.
I know there are dog lovers who are convinced I am a menace to society. They probably think I should be locked in a small closet with two Schnauzers, a Pekingese and a Great Dane until I repent. Some, at this very moment, may be composing a strident defense of the entire canine species.
All of us have our pet peeves; one of mine just happens to be dogs. Someday my kids will realize this and quit hounding me.