I don't really get pets

I don’t really get pets.

We never had one growing up, and I never expressed any desire to get one. Other family members and family friends almost all had dogs, and from as early as I can remember, I was terrified of them.

To me, that doesn’t need an explanation. From my vantage point, I don’t understand how someone can’t see the threat a dog poses. I am particularly uncomfortable around what I call ‘active’ dogs, those dogs that run around quickly, jumping up and grabbing at you for attention. Don’t get me wrong, I also don’t like small dogs. Too yappy. The only dogs I can really abide are old, slow, placid ones. I couldn’t even tell you a breed that fits that description.

One thing I do not enjoy is people’s reaction to the discovery that I don’t like dogs, or really understand the pet connection. Some earnestly tell me the old cliché that I might not like dogs, but I will like their dog. Update: I don’t.  Some, for which I am very grateful, acknowledge my discomfort and take reasonable steps to alleviate it. Many thanks!

Others take it upon themselves to point out my discomfort, highlighting it as something of a moral failing or a lack of emotional intelligence.

I am trying to learn to be more accepting. I am glad that some people feel such a close connection to their pets, and I acknowledge that for many people, those connections are meaningful and indeed sustaining. All the best to you.

But if I discover you have a fear of heights and I invite you to my house, I rarely (if ever) proceed to make you climb on the roof and perform some form of acrobatics display. That would be unkind, perhaps even inconsiderate!

Tagged in pets, dogs, friends, What messes with your head