There were two young women standing on the porch, passing a cigarette back and forth between them while they stared down at the glowing swimming pool in the courtyard, escaping the dying birthday party inside the apartment. At my day job I'm usually surrounded by middle aged women, partners, associates, secretaries, receptionists; I'm the youngest person in my office by about a decade. I'm lucky to have my job, but men in the same situation as me, who work with few people their own age, understand that even the sight of young women can be a relief. Women who didn't leave awful lip stick stains on the rims of their cups. Women whose lips and eyes and legs were young, and appeared soft, and sparked my imagination in a good way. Women younger than me and younger than my roommate who knew them. Women who not only looked younger, but swayed and thought youthfully, and when they share a cigarette with a friend, talk about whatever it is young women talk about.
What I remember from my conversation with the two young women is from the end, which is typical of conversations that don't end well. I perform much better in small gatherings and house parties than bars and clubs, so this was as good a situation as any for me to make some new friends. There was small talk, about the music and the party, and we were enjoying ourselves I think. But eventually one of the women, who was pretty like a Gilmore Girl, started shoving pictures of her dog in my face, or maybe there was a dog at the party, okay maybe I don't remember all the details but the subject of dogs came up.
"I want a puppy so badly!", my roommate gushed like a fool. All I could do was stare at the pool.
"Oh my god yes!" said the Gilmore girl. Her friend, who looked like Regina King, was also enthusiastic about the idea. "Why don't you?", she asked, "Life is short.".
In response my roommate brought the cigarette to his face and gestured subtlety in my direction. This is what I was afraid of. Back into a corner all I could was be honest.
"I'm actually not crazy about dogs." I shrug.
All of a sudden the music stopped and there was silence. Gilmore girl and Regina King and my roommate exchanged puzzled, slightly disgusted looks, as if to confirm with each other that they heard correctly. Then they turned their expressions towards me, and knowing my prospects would now certainly be unfulfilled, I made an excuse and headed back inside.
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I tell this story because it demonstrates the very real consequences of a prejudice in our society that is too often overlooked. I'll probably get banned from the Internet and thrown in the stocks for saying this, but I don't particularly like dogs. They kinda suck. There. I said it.
To Gilmore girl and Regina King and most of the world, I know that makes me some kind of monster. "Let me get this straight...you are unable to love a dog? A furry little rascal!? You can't accept snuggles and unconditional love? The slobber, the shedding hair, the late night barking and errant feces? You must be some sort of sociopath!", I hear them shout, and as I walk down the street I am followed by a chorus of boos and barking and car horns. After all, the non-dog minority is among the most discriminated against in America. Don't tell your girlfriend or she'll break up with you. Don't tell your boss or you'll lose your job. So for a while I didn't tell, and I didn't ask, and I hid my true identity from the world. But no more. I can't go on like this. I've tried conforming, but I can't lie to myself anymore. So today I'm coming out anti-dog to the world. And in the spirit of equality here's a few things dog people should understand.
1) Just because I don't like dogs doesn't make me this guy.
This is my single biggest issue with dog people, and luckily a vast majority of dog people could get on board with this. But as is often the case with social issues, it's the radical minority that cannot be swayed; the people who get emotional during those Sarah McLaughlin commercials, they are the ones who immediately and unfairly equate anti-dog people to Cruella DeVille or Michael Vick . My dogaphile friends imagine I just wander around Pan Pacific Park on Saturday mornings kicking random dogs, simply because I would never want to own one. This is bigotry and stereotyping and not conducive to real debate. Just because I'm anti-dog doesn't mean I hate them. In fact, some dogs are cute, but...
2) ...come on.
I can appreciate cute animals, for about four seconds. That seems like a reasonable amount of time for an adult to look at the thing, recognize its cuteness, crack a smile, and move on with your life. But there are people who Google pictures of "cute animals" and stare at them for hours to unwind. I don't use Instagram or Pintrest, but apparently those networks are just wrought with cute animal pictures. I was hanging out with a who person who told me she dressed up her male and female dogs in bride and groom outfits, and performed a "wedding" ceremony because "(we) didn't want the dogs to have a baby out of wedlock." She thought it was "the cutest thing" and that "the dogs love dressing up", even though they have no idea what is going on. The line between cute and creepy is thin and perilous, which brings me to my final point..
Over it
3) Please treat your dog like a dog
My cousins are dog people; they've had a rotating roster of large, poorly behaved Labradors ever since I can remember, one of which bit my brother in the face when he was about six (he's anti-dog as well). Whenever we'd have dinner at their house, there would be up to three dogs jostling for position underneath the table, bumping into everyones' legs trying to grab whatever scraps managed to find their way to the floor. And if they didn't feel like waiting they would rest their chins innocently on the table until they caught you slipping and went for your roast beef. Eventually my uncle did the right thing and locked them on the second floor when we came over.
For anti-doggers like myself, few things are more frustrating than a dog that is a jerk. For large dogs, this is usually one that sniffs at your crotch like a Vortex vacuum. For smaller ones this means barking non stop for 20 minutes because a squirrel climbed up a tree. But sniffing crotches and barking at squirrels are what dogs do, so I can't blame the dogs themselves. Correcting poor dog behavior falls on the owner, and to you "hands off" dog parents out there who feel its wrong to scold little Max (all dogs are named Max), let me remind you that your dog is not your child. You are allowed to put your dog in a cage when he knocks over a vase. If you know your dog barks all the time, PLEASE do not bring it onto the plane with you. Your dog is a pet, an animal that belongs to you, something you keep alive and play with and maybe use to meet women. If the choice is between my comfort and your dog's, the answer is obvious. I am more important than your dog.
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Few people will read this article, and from that number even fewer will look at the world any differently. The plight of the anti-dog population will continue for the foreseeable future, and since I currently live in one of the most dog-crazy cities in the country, I've gotten used to being shut down by women and watching my step every time I walk on grass. But they say great men plant trees whose shade they know they will never sit in, and I write this in the hope that one day things will be different, for my children or their children. A dog will likely piss on that tree, but I can't do much about that.
Until then, to all of you "out" and "closeted" anti-dog people out there, you brave souls, this is for you.
HUMAN RIGHTS> EVERYTHIN
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