I stepped out of the elevator and was immediately accosted by a lumbering black lab.
“Oh. I guess I’m here on Bring Your Dog to Work Day.” When I sat down to wait for my meeting to begin, the lab took the opportunity to push his snout up my skirt.
I carefully extricated myself from that situation, but soon found myself with the dog’s large head in my lap.
“Aren’t you cute?” I asked the dog as I patted its silky ears, silently wishing its owner would call him off so I could avoid starting my meeting with a sneeze. And the dog was cute. I just wished he wasn’t something I had to worry about in the office.
When the executive I was to meet with arrived, I said, “sweet dog. Yours?”
“F*cking dogs. No! He’s not mine. I hate dogs.”
He shooed the lab out of his office and I began to breathe again.
I wasn’t always cranky about dogs. Growing up, I wanted a puppy in the worst way. Big dogs like Siberian huskies were my favorite but I would have taken a Yorkie or a Lhasa Apso or…anything really.
But life intervened, as I posted here.
But I still have to deal with the occasional dog-friendly place, even through work. When I read this post on The Awl, though, I realized that I’m not alone. An excerpt:
We live in such a dog-adoring culture that it’s hard to admit when you aren’t totally enamored of them. What you are supposed to feel—what you must always feel—is love. And dog owners are blessed with the extraordinary ability to call bullshit; they can sniff out your limp pats, your half-hearted game of catch. Soon the question comes: “Oh, you don’t like dogs?”
1. How can you not like dogs?
2. How can you not like my dog?
I never say much about my “no thanks” attitude toward dogs as pets because doing so makes people assume you are a Giant Meanie. I’m not quite that mean. If I meet your dog, I’ll be nice. I may even like the pooch. But keep it out of my personal space, if you know what I mean.