I'm 99% sure I don't like your dog. Especially if I've never met it before. I'm just not a dog person. And contrary to some's beliefs, that does not make me anti-American or anti-animals or a member of Al Qaeda. It simply means I would rather you keep your dog away from me. I flat out cannot handle them. Especially inside ones. The thought simply makes me cringe.
At my last job, we had a big-wig from the corporate office come to town. I will never forget when he went to get into my boss's car to be taken to his hotel and he immediately shut the door back and refused to get inside. The reason? There was dog hair all over the seats. A symptom of dog-fever that people whom have caught this bug seem to overlook. I ended up having to drive him across town, since my car was nice and hair free.
I thought it was funny at the time, but the older I get, the more I'm jumping on his bandwagon. Who would willingly want to be covered in dog hair day after day? Not to mention all the other horrible things about them. They bark. They whine. They pant. They puke behind the couch and you don't find it for a few days. They poop on your oriental rug and you could almost step in it in your bare feet. They smell. And they smell worse after you've washed them. Oh yeah, and their food smells pretty gnarly too. Not to mention they have ZERO manners when it comes to chomping on their food and lapping up their water. The sound of a dog drinking is enough to push my OCD with noises into hyper-drive and send me into unchartered panic attack territory.
Dating The Ex and his crazy family didn't help any. The memory of their giant German Shepard rubbing against my leg at the dinner table sends chills down my spine. Then when he would drink from the bowl they conveniently had placed right next to the kitchen table... I'm about to gag right now! I just know I ingested some hair in my food over the years we were dating. There were times the dog would fart while laying under the table and start to lick my feet and I would literally have to excuse myself for a minute so I didn't vomit all over my plate. I made it a point after the first year to eat there as infrequently as possible.
So, here's the deal. I don't hate ALL dogs, but I'm not ready to be chummy with any of them either. If you keep your house clean and your furniture relatively hair free, I'll be fine. However, if you invite me for dinner and the dog is in the kitchen while you're preparing the meal or next to me as I'm expected to eat, then all bets are off. If you cannot make that accommodation to me, as a guest in your house, then don't be offended when I will not eat what you have cooked. We're probably just better off going to a restaurant. And no, I'm not going to be intentionally mean to your dog. I won't kick it. (Unless it deserves it! Ha!) But really... if it rubs against me, I will shy away. If it licks me, I will cringe. If it dares to jump on me, I will forcefully push it away and yell "NO!" because you obviously have not spent enough time in Puppy Kindergarten. I do not want to pet it. I do not want to tell you how cute it is. And in the back of my mind, I will also be silently criticizing the stupid name you gave it.
It's all a bit like the military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy. If you don't ask me to like your dog, then I won't tell you to your face how much I dislike it. Although, you totally will have that gut feeling that you know my secret. I'm not very good at hiding it. The reality is that I don't have to hide it. It's how I am and take it or leave it. It's gag-worthy enough when some of my own hair ends up in my mouth during sex. And I know where that hair has been.
And it has not been licking my balls.
P.S. Don't despair, Dog Lovers, I'm all for equality. I hate cats too. Probably more than dogs. In fact, definitely more than dogs. Being slightly allergic to them doesn't help their cause.