I don't even like puppies, no matter how cuuuuute you think they look with their big eyes and oversized paws and their stupid little hats (or toys, or whatever).
I especially don't like dogs whose owners think that their dog has a right to walk up to me in a public place and start sniffing at any part of my anatomy. I don't like dogs whose owners think it is okay for me to have to cross to the other side of the footpath (or street), just so they don't have to give their dog's lead a little tug to get it out of my path. I don't like dogs whose owners say, "It's okay, he won't hurt you" as I back away from their slobbery mouths and gross tongues. Not to mention the dogs' mouths and tongues. I don't like dogs that suddenly start barking madly at me from behind a fence, when I am just minding my own business, walking down the footpath, not thinking that my ears are about to be assaulted by inarticulate, eardrum-bursting animal noises -- until I jump three feet in the air in surprise.
Have I mentioned that I don't like dog owners, either? I mean, it's hardly fair to put all the blame on the stupid animals.
And dogs are animals, not children: but even if you think they are like children, I wouldn't let my child run up to a stranger in a public place and start slobbering all over her and sniffing her in inappropriate places. Or start yelling at a passer-by over the yard fence. And then say, "it's okay, he won't hurt you".
The Voice of Reason says, "a dog is just one meal away from being a wild animal". Or, in my opinion, less than that.
I may have found a soul mate in Hemlock. See the diary entry for April 12th. Via Chase me ladies, I'm in the cavalry.
With apologies to Sam, Nelson Mandela, Sprocket and other dogs of my acquaintance whose owners I can also tolerate.