I don’t like dogs.
Heart of stone, you ask? Possibly.
I’m a cat person.
Here are a few of problems I have with the little mongrels:
- When you pet a dog your hand smells . (FYI that does not happen with cats)
- They follow you around begging for food (the nerve!).
- When you pet them your hand smells.
- They just look stupid (look in those eyes and honestly tell me you don’t think, “the lights are on, but nobody’s home”).
- When you pet them your hand smells.
- They poop on the ground (sure, a trained one will go outside, but then your grass is tainted).
- When you pet them your hand smells.
For some reason little dogs irk me far more than big dogs. Larger dogs look more regal and attractive to me.
At least big dogs have the protection angle to work with.
That was the sole reason I was a dog owner not so long ago. We wanted a protection dog.
Meet Valkyrie:
When we would take her to training, our friend and trainer would say,
“Okay, I’m going to have to be a bit aggressive towards her, I’m not hurting her, but I need to keep her in line, okay?”
My first response was a happy, “Sure! Don’t worry about it.”
But then I realized that people expect women to be overly attached to their dogs and sensitive to them like their own children.
So, I had to bluff and show emotion.
“Oh…okay, just be careful with her, she’s precious…”
Everyone seemed to be more satisfied with that response from me.
Unfortunately (okay, not really), when we moved into a high-rise, it wasn’t going to be any kind of life for a dog (yes, I do care about their quality of life).
So, now my parents are the proud parents of Valkyrie! (Dear Lord, does that make her my sister?)
