One of my humans once said that “under no circumstance will a dog sleep in my bed.” He’s never admitted it, but he had preconceived notions of friends and acquaintances who allowed this. If joining them for dinner, he would carefully inspect plates, drinking glasses and utensils for stray hairs. And he couldn’t help but obsess over the thousands of hidden hairs that were surely on the furniture and in the carpet (not to mention the fear of sitting in a spot where, at one time, there might have been an “accident”).
He’d wonder why some people just didn’t understand that, when he visited, there was no desire to become best friends with their mutt. ”Why don’t they chain this thing up or shut him in a spare room,” he’d ask himself. Dog tongue, or nose, or paws, or hair, meant one thing. Dog germs!
It’s funny how humans form opinions on certain things despite never having experienced them first hand. Like that toddler in the store who seems to be deliberately pressing your buttons as she’s screaming to get her way. Her mother doesn’t even seem to notice, meanwhile, when all you can think about is, “If that were my kid, she would NOT be acting like this in public.” And then you have a kid of your own and soon familiarize yourself with a concept called “picking your battles.”
You might say that, under our roof, the tables have been turned a bit. My human has me to contend with now. It would seem dogs are viewed in a somewhat different light these days. Imagine, with actual experience and interaction comes tolerance and wisdom. The guard is down and the prejudices have disappeared (at least the pet-related ones).
No need to guess where I sleep most nights.
