Dog - Marigrace Bannon

It’s pretty unpopular to tell the truth sometimes, and the fact is that I don’t like dogs. Well, I don’t hate them; actually I was brought up to fear them. My mother was terrified of dogs, so I don’t think it’s in our DNA, but we definitely all acquired her fear. She claims she was pregnant with one of us and her car broke down by the side of the road and she was walking by herself and a dog was chasing her and ferociously barking. I suspect something happened earlier than that, but I don’t know. Anyway, one time a stray dog appeared at our house, and my father decided that he would teach us not to fear dogs. So the little mutt stayed on our back kitchen porch, and everytime the dog came into the kitchen my mother would stand on the kitchen chair and scream in such a loud shrill, it was almost Hitchcockian. And all 6 girls would get on the kitchen benches and also scream our terrified cries, but we couldn’t compare to my mother’s operatic pitch. And either, my father would be around to remove the dog and place it back on the kitchen porch or I think the little dog would wander out of the kitchen and miss his straying days. I can’t say we ever got over our fear, but I’ve worked hard to be cordial to my friends dogs, but the truth is, I don’t want to pet them and I hate when I enter a room full of people and the dog at the party starts sniffing me. I always want to say, “I’m not the only one here. Can you work the room?”