JR was my
uncle’s Dachshund, an adorable little brown hot dog… who bit me on the
mouth. At just four years of age, that was to be my first of many
unfortunate canine encounters.
A high-school
friend’s West Highland White Terrier, Rudy, would go one hundred percent
berserk when I came over. If we wanted to hang out there, her parents had to
physically restrain Rudy—an otherwise lovely animal—until we escaped to the
basement rec room. Even then, he would pace and snarl along the other side of
the door for the entire visit, and remember: dog time is seven times ours, so
that pooch had some committed animosity for me.
During
college, there was Cinnamon. Such a sweet name for such a sweet-looking
white-and-copper Spaniel. An interesting case, this one. She would bare teeth
when I tried to leave! It got so that her owner had to create a diversion while
I ran for the exit. On lucky occasions where I found her asleep, I would tiptoe
past to the front door like an escaping prisoner shuffling around a tired but vicious
guard. Named Cinnamon.
Is it any
wonder I’m a cat person after such a Pavlovian history?
There have
been exceptions, I admit. Lily, my aunt’s Beagle-Pointer mix, is as amiable and
chill as they come. A colleague has a Basset Hound named Emmylou who just wants
to flop near me and score a treat once in a while. I also have an unlikely
fascination with Neapolitan Mastiffs because their faces look like drawn
curtains of pure droop. Even met one called Blue in a pet store. Despite his
murderous gargoyle likeness, he simply lacked the energy to give a shit. Only
six months old, and it still took all his effort just to sit there and drool.
It was kind of Zen.
That said,
maybe it’s time to reexamine my aversion. If some are OK, couldn’t any of them
be a Lily, an Emmylou, or a Blue under different circumstances? Not knowing
better as a kindergartener, I did in fact get down on the floor and touch my
nose to JR’s before he tried to eat my lips. And Rudy probably wanted to kill
me because I arrived in an overwhelming Halloween costume our first meeting. Still
trying to figure out what was up Cinnamon’s ass, but it could have been my tension,
my own aura of mistrust triggering a negative feedback loop.
The way
people’s reactions range from ugly to uplifting depending on my approach.
We get what
we give in this circular life.
