You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry, Part II

This is a big week for us.  This week, PB&Cheese proudly publishes its 50th post.  We are so thankful for our readers, our sharers and our cheerleaders.

For weeks, I’ve bent James’ ear, trying to figure out what to write about since this is sort of a big deal (to me).  What story haven’t I told?  What story needs to be told?

Last night, I was in the middle of writing a post about Zozo when a pal called.  She was upset.  People close to her had said mean, hurtful things about her wonderful furbaby.  We talked, commiserating about ignorance and intolerance against our girls.  After we got off the phone, my brain continued the conversation.

Instead of a sentimental rhapsody about a morning ritual that Zo and I have, you instead get this: a mini rant.  No cute pictures of dogs napping or romping or playing.  Sorry (not sorry).

In our almost 6 years of dog ownership, I have “learned” the following:

1.  big dogs are terrifying to people (we have one big dog).

2.  pit bulls are the Worst Breed Ever (we have one pit bull).

3.  people who own big dogs and pit bulls are horrible people (that’s us).

4.  pit bulls are un-trainable and mean-spirited.

5.  both dogs will maim us given the opportunity.

6. dogs will destroy your home.

People, and I know you’re mostly the choir here… but people.  Please.  None of these things are true.  You want the truth?

Dogs are loving.  They are loyal.  They know when they’re safe and they know when they’re scared and they will do anything for praise and affection.  Pit Bulls are smart and silly and fiercely protective of the people who protect them.  Big dogs are exuberant and they don’t always know their own size, and they like to lean and give hugs and bound up to you to say “Hi” and give kisses.

They want to learn and they want to please.  They crave a job to do, and they work so hard to do it well.  They would never hurt anyone unless that person was hurting them (or me or James).  Sure, neither is particularly gentle with squirrels, but that’s a different argument for a different day.  We love our dogs.  We care for them like they’re our children.  They’re messy and sticky and occasionally one of them dents the drywall (by the way, you know what else exhibits this behavior?  Toddlers.  Let’s lock them up next to the scary demon dogs).  We have been through the ringer with them.  Neither will turn on us because we all need each other   They know that.  We know that.

You know what does leave a mark?  Dirty looks, rude comments and an obstinate mind.  We wouldn’t be out if our dogs were a menace.  We wouldn’t go on adventures if we weren’t certain they’d come when called or greet other humans with respect and patience. We wouldn’t have people over if we didn’t think the dogs could behave themselves socially.  They can’t understand when you don’t want to play or accept kisses, but they can read that look in your eyes and the change in your posture, and they feel they’ve done something wrong. They don’t know what, but something has gone afoul.  They hurt.

So think about that when you run your mouth to someone with a “dangerous” dog.  You’re criticizing their pet.  A member of their family.  You’re insulting that person.  That to me is more mean-spirited than anything I have ever witnessed an animal do.

[dismounting soap box]