I’ve never been an animal person. No animals ever crossed the threshold of my house, even if they were just visiting. The major reason for this aversion is I was bit by a neighbor’s dog when I, myself, was just a young pup. And again, when I was very young, I spent a lot of time on my grandparents farm. There, the animals disgusted me and the barn cats terrorized me. I know it’s (sort of) irrational but I’m afraid of animals. Always have been, always will be.
Recently though, one little dachshund named Ollie wormed his way into my house, if not, kinda sorta, into my heart. Ollie belongs to my sister, Lisa. There came a day a few years ago after we moved to Florida when I had to make a choice. We invited Lisa to spend some time at our house and she said she’d come if she could bring Ollie. It was a crossroads moment for me. I wanted Lisa to come more than I didn’t want Ollie to come so I agreed.
Randy adores Ollie, but then he’s always been a dog lover. And Ollie and I have reached a kind of tenuous truce. I’m no longer afraid or hostile, and he doesn’t bark at or lick me anymore. Actually, the little guy is sort of growing on me. It’s a good, peaceful place to be on Thanksgiving Day. And all the other family days the rest of the year.
But….I’m really, really, really glad Lisa doesn’t have a german shepherd.
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