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The Truth About Cats and Dogs

November 11th, 2010

Dating guys with pets has always been a challenge for me.  It is not that I don’t like pets because I’d actually like to have a dog of my own.  Unfortunately, I’ve had some bad experiences dating pet owners.

There was the really cute guy who refused to banish his three dogs from the bedroom.  Trust.  Having three Yorkies barking at your ankles while trying to get to first base isn’t ideal.  When he refused a second time to lock them out saying that they would “eventually” leave, I suddenly became really tired and “eventually” left.

Then there was the other cute guy who refused to banish his cats from the bedroom.  He would lock them out before going to bed, but let them back in during the night.  There is nothing like waking up to a cat looking you in the eye with an outstretched claw to freak you out in the morning.

But there have been times when I‘ve dated guys and they were willing to compromise on the pet issue.  Shawn, one of my exes, has two cats, Krystle and Alexis.  Alexis is very moody and was prone to chasing Krystle all over the apartment at any given hour for no particular reason. After being awoken a few times by Krystle running across the bed being chased by Alexis at 5am, Shawn and I compromised and locked the cats out of the bedroom during weeknights.

Then along comes Peanut.  Peanut is a very cute Scottish terrier attached to an even cuter Scottish owner.  She barked at me the first time I met her, then smelled my hand and immediately began begging for food.  As part of our dates, “Scotty” and I would walk Peanut either before or after the date in a wooded area of Rock Creek Park near his house.  It was nice because Peanut did her thing in the woods while Scotty and I got to talk some more and either wind up or decompress from the evening.

Peanut and I developed a good understanding of each other.  She even let me feed her bacon once or twice and never snatched it from my hand.

I thought everything with Peanut was going smoothly until I brought her up one night at dinner with Scotty and he looked over at me and said, “Oh.  I got the impression that you don’t like my dog.”

I was taken aback at Scotty’s comment and the clear “no, I’m not joking” look on his face.  I know my mouth flew open and I may have even dropped my fork on the plate as my like for Scotty and Peanut tried to force my brain to say something out of my mouth other than “but I like pets!  Honest!”

After regaining my composure, I asked Scotty why he thought that I didn’t like Peanut.

To be continued…

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