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Why I Hate Your Dog

My parents have this giant over sized Husky named Joe who snarls at me every time I go to their house. Which is almost daily in the summer. (My dad cooks. I do not. I like to eat. He likes to feed me. It’s a happy symbiosis.)

Every time I pull into their driveway, Joe’s fur rises and his teeth bare and he growls as though he wants to rip my face off. At first this freaked me out, because um, Mom, Dad? I have children. One who doesn’t move on his own. At all. The last thing I need is to worry about Joe the Dog eating your grand baby, my child.

Over the years, I have learned that Joe is a fake ferocious dog. In fact, when I see him now, I snarl back which generally makes him yip with fear and run to hide in his doghouse. He’s never shown any hostility towards another human (or animal) either. He saves it just for me.

But still. I hate Joe.

In fact, I hate almost everyone else’s dog.

I only love my own dogs. Because my dogs, unlike your dogs, are awesome.

This attitude often surprises other dog owners when they see me with my own pack of wolves dogs, so I decided to come clean with the reasons I hate your dog.

Your dog never stays in your yard. For some reason, it prefers my yard. And my garbage. Because apparently, my trash is tastier than your trash. Which it likes to separate and sort out on my lawn. My dogs never do this. Because my dogs know trash is not tasty.

Your dog humps my leg. Or my kid’s leg. Or my husband’s leg. (Okay, I admit, I always laugh when a dog humps my husband’s leg because his face goes beet red like he’s scared he led the dog on in the first place.) My dogs are smart enough to limit their humping to the cats that wander around outside or to the teddy bears that my daughter keeps on her bed. They are thoughtful humpers like that.

Your dog licks me. After licking their ass. Worse yet, your dog won’t stop licking my son’s face. My quadriplegic son. Who can’t escape the rogue tongue.

Your dog has no dignity. It feels no compunction to sit at my feet and beg for food scraps and then turn around and rub its arse along the floor. The floor on which I have to walk on. Which means not only can I not eat in peace with out feeling like I’m depriving some starving animal but now I’m going to be taking a little bit of your dog home with me. Your dog’s ass germs on my socks.

Your dog is a magnet for mud. Which they often want to show me when they jump up on me when I arrive. Usually as I’m wearing white pants. Or better yet, when I’m in a dress and not wearing pants at all. Nothing says high fashion like walking around with muddy paw prints on your skirt and dog scratches down your legs.

Your dog is better dressed than I am. Enough with the cutesy outfits. They aren’t cute. They are odious. My dog is laughing at your dog. And I’m stuck wishing they made cute jackets like that in my size.

Your dog just ate it’s own poop. My dogs never do that. Or if they do, they are smart enough to never let me see them do it.

Your dog won’t shut up. Ever. It’s worse than my teenage daughter who loves listening to the sound of her own voice.

Your dog loves me just a little too much. Not that I can completely blame it. I’m a loveable gal. But I really don’t need your dog’s head in my crotch. Boundaries. Everyone needs them. Even your dog.

Your dog has a stupid name. No seriously. Just look into your dog’s eyes and feel its pain. It’s no wonder they spend so much time licking their crotches. They are trying to lick their pain and shame away.

So ya, I hate your dog. Which is why I don’t really want to be around them. Sometimes it’s not all about safety. Sometimes it’s just that your dog is simply not as cool as my dog.

And yes, I’m totally judging you by the dog you keep.

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