I was watching an episode of Maude where Maude says she’s a dog lover but Vivian’s dog is the reincarnation of Hitler.
I love animals, cats and dogs are great, and I can’t say I haven’t met one I haven’t liked and that I haven’t got along with.
Fine, I will admit I perhaps haven’t met enough dogs and cats for long enough.
So here’s my question to people who call themselves dog lovers or cat lovers. Or both
Have you ever met a particular dog you couldn’t stand or if you’re a cat lover a cat you hated.
If so why? What irritated you about that particular dog or cat that made the dog or cat lover in you, say, “I love dogs, but not THAT PARTICULAR dog” (or cat)
Yes. I love all animals. I’ve had dogs, cats and horses most of my life and have always enjoyed spending time with them and looking after them.
When I was 19 or 20 my mother remarried and started breeding Pomeranians with her new husband. I don’t know if it was just the breed or their horribly incompetent training but I hated every dog she had for the 3 years she managed to stay married.
I still have an underlying bitterness towards furry rat dogs although I find the sleeker versions don’t trigger that response.
I’m a cat slave. I once had a room mate whose cat hated me, so I was less than fond of it. It would sneak into my room and pee on my bed. It bit through the speaker wires to my very expensive stereo. It would stand at my bedroom door and howl while I was sleeping after a long night shift.
Since then I’ve considered gray tabbys ugly.
Yep. The newest cat in my apartment complex is a little stinker. When I moved in, there were a couple of nice mellow cats, and we all got along fine. But the newest feline member of our community I could definitely do without.
Once he got past the “cute little kitten” stage, he started picking fights with the three older, wiser (fatter) cats in the complex. He also has an overly active hunting instinct, and is always chasing after squirrels and climbing into trees trying to get at birds and their nests. (This is a problem because several residents have low-hanging bird feeders.) I had to rescue an alligator lizard from it just last weekend. The other cats are too laid back for that kind of stuff…they’re more the “laze around in the sun” variety. Maybe the new cat will mellow out too. I sure hope so.
I’m generally not a fan of very small or very large dogs, but I’m willing to give any of them the benefit of the doubt at our first meeting.
But a friend of mine has a small dog that, for reasons unknown, despises me. According to him, the dog is the soul of friendliness with everyone else on earth — except me and the mailman.
I swear that I never did anything to indicate my general distaste for small, yappy dogs. I approached this beast with good intentions, but it was not to be.
I’ve given up trying to effect any kind of rapprochement with it. My friend grabs the little fiend and holds him if I walk through the door — good thing, as it gives every indication of a strong desire to take a chunk out of my leg. He then locks it safely out of the way for the duration of my visit.
My grandmother had an ancient toy poodle named Pierre when I was small. Pierre was quite deranged. His halitosis could have dropped a charging boar, he drooled, and his rheumy eyes were permanently bloodshot with sheer madness.
He was Grandma’s widdle baby and she dressed the damn thing in a Santa Claus costume every Christmas. Picture a snarling, slavering, mangy demon dog in a festive red hat and you may begin to understand why the thought of Santa Claus visiting my house after we were all asleep Christmas Eve made me anxious.
Pierre once kept me pinned to the floor by the simple expedient of sitting nearby and growling at me whenever I moved. Having already been bitten by the little helldemon a few times (“Wahh! Grandma, Pierre bit me!” “Well, what did you do to him?”), I just lay there like a terrified slug until Grandma came to the rescue. I received a scolding for “bothering” the dog.
Pierre eventually died (and there was much rejoicing) and after a suitable period of mourning Grandma adopted another toy poodle named Lisa. The first day I met Lisa I tried to get her to jump up for a milkbone.
When I was a kid, about 8-10 maybe, we had an evil, evil cat. It would lie in wait and attack with absolutely zero provocation. It leaped from an 8-foot height onto my sleeping father’s face. It jumped on my back, claws out, as I was going down the stairs. It hated everyone. My parents couldn’t take it, and got rid of him. We replaced it with a great cat who we had for probably 15 years, with no incidents.
When my SIL was 12, her mother bought her a Labrador/pitbull mix without any preparation or ability to train and discipline it. My SIL was a hyper little kid, so she raised herself a hyper little dog with no manners or pain receptors. The ‘‘little dog’’ is now a giant wall of muscle who will hurl herself at you repeatedly and happily jump in your lap, looking on stupidly as you moan in agony. She doesn’t care if you put her on a leash - she will choke herself in her attempt to jump on you. Shock collars mean nothing to her. She does not recognize basic commands. She is the most ill-mannered, destructive dog I have ever known, and I have to deal with her every time I visit my MIL.
She can probably still be trained successfully if the humans in her life are capable of learning. The choke collar and the shocks mean little to her, but there is one thing she must have – attention.
When she is rough, when she jumps up or hurts someone, that person needs to immediately make a sharp noise (“ow!” is fine) and turn his or her back on the dog and walk away. Stay like that for a few seconds (30 seconds is bordering on too long) and then return calmly to the dog, asking her to be gentle (a command like “easy, easy…” works).
She will not be gentle, and you will have to do it again and again. Consistently, which is key.
But the withdrawal of attention is a powerful incentive and it really ought to work if used properly. You won’t need harsh words, you won’t need a shock collar, you won’t need a squirt bottle – you just need to take away what she’s trying (too hard) to get, and then re-supply it in a controlled, calmer way.
This will require all the humans to be on board and willing, of course.
I love, love, love dogs. But a friend of mine had a cockapoo that was evil incarnate. It’s the only dog that ever bit me in anger. She was chewing on a plastic packet of sweet and sour sauce and I didn’t want it to choke on it so I took it away from her and she bit me. I should have let the little bitch choke…
A friend of mine had an intact male Siberian Husky that she let get by with murder using the excuse that ‘he’s a Huskyyyyyyyyyy’ in a whiny voice, claiming that they are closer to wolves genetically and therefore must be allowed to be a little ‘wild’. This dog would attack and kill small animals without a thought, was constantly escaping from her yard, would not come when called, and several times attacked my Gordon Setters, who are very gentle dogs and normally don’t fight back. He also regulary tried to hump me any time I sat on her couch, which she found hilarious and exclaimed “He LIKES you!!”
This one Husky became 2, which bred and she kept 2, which became 5,6,7…And they were each and every one as poorly behaved as the first because, well… ‘they’re HUSKYyyyyyyyyys…’
We used to travel to do shows together many years ago, but when I tried to feed my girl alone in an exercise pen, she would put 1 or 2 of her dogs in the pen with her, and they would bully my dog away from her food. When we stayed in a motel room together, she allowed her male to run loose in the room (“Well, YOUR dog is loose”… yeah, but MY dog behaves!) and WITHOUT FAIL he would get up on MY bed and piss in the middle of it.
We no longer see one another at all, unless we run into each other at a show.
Stupid Fucking Hippie Girl that my roomies used to score off came round to my house once when I was at uni and went “can anyone look after my cat, coz I’ve got to go away for a few days. He’s called Spliff hahahahahahahahahaha.”
Being cat lovers and compassionate people, we agreed. Within days, however, “Spliff” had been renamed “Shithead”. I love cats so much but this fucker would scratch everyone within claw distance, and when it wasn’t attacking people it would creep up the back of the sofa and sink its claws deep into your head when you were least expecting it. It shat and pissed all over the house, and bit through every wire going.
She’d been giving it hash blowbacks since it was a tiny kitten, which probably gave it brain damage, which was tragic, but there’s only so much sympathy you can have. It disappeared when I was away one weekend. Not sure if Stupid Fucking Hippie Girl had turned up to reclaim it, or if one of my roomies drowned the poor bastard.
When I visited my relatives in Germany, I stayed at the beautiful house of an uncle and aunt. It was gorgeous with a pool, and marble floors, and I had a guest bedroom upstairs to stay in.
They also had a terrier mix named Putzl who took an instant dislike to me.
The dog immediately wanted me OUT of HIS HOUSE!! No, the dog wanted me DEAD!! It wanted to gnaw my ankles through to the bone so that I would catch blood poisoning and DIE!! The dog wanted someone to lift him up so that he could TEAR OUT MY THROAT!!
And all the while this furry little storm trooper was barking and growling and nipping at my shins as I visited, my aunt and uncle would do nothing more than purse their lips at him and coaxingly murmur, “Awww Puuutzllll, shhhhh…”
There was no putting the dog in another room from them, so I did the next best thing. I put myself in another room. I stayed in my guest room for the majority of the visit. When I mentioned (gently!) to my cousin who was also there that perhaps I was having trouble with Putzl, my cousin said, "Well, you must understand, Putzl is an older dog.
Yeah? And my cat is 22. And if she were bothering a guest of mine, she would be behind closed doors out of the way even if I had only two rooms and a closet.
That was the only animal I can ever remember having a serious problem with. Putzl was just the name for that little putz.
Yes I have hated multiple animals over the years. Mostly they were viscous dogs that went after me in my yard or barked and howled all the time. The next door neighbor moved out and the nasty dog is still in his house. The home is owned by his sister. I am always worried that dog will attack my niece when she plays outside. It did bite both the girls that lived with him for a couple years. I expect the dog to be gone soon as the pigsty is cleaned up for sale or rental.
I am fully aware of that, and also fully aware that my dislike of an entire breed because of one owner is improper, but it is what it is. She ALLOWED those dogs to become what they were/are, but it doesn’t chane the fact that I hated being around them, and it eventually destroyed our friendship.
My roommate decided to come home with a cat one day and the thing scared the crap out of me. My roommate worked nights and this thing would jump up on my chest while I was sleeping and lay there like a sphinx. If I tried to move it would hiss and scratch at my face. It absolutely terrorized me and i called it satan. I would try to lock it out of my room but it would always figure out a way in. I insisted she find another home for it.
I love all animals, and usually assume that any bad manners are due to bad training. but that cat was just evil.
This is great advice. It’s actually similar to how I try to manage her when I go over there… whenever she jumps, I turn my back on her. She will keep jumping, and try to get in front of me, and I will keep turning my back to her, and eventually she stops. My husband meanwhile just sternly says, ‘‘No! No!’’ and of course she keeps jumping. I have tried to convince him that not all dogs behave like this, but he now adamantly refuses to ever own a dog because of this one.
Unfortunately her humans have no interest in changing her behavior. It was very frustrating to me when my MIL made that choice several years ago and failed to invest the time and energy to properly train the dog. And in my SIL’s eyes, of course the dog can do no wrong. It is really a shame, because she has such a sweet temperament, not a mean bone in her body. She doesn’t mean to be destructive, she just doesn’t know any better.
Angel: My mother’s current chihuahua. This dog barks at all strangers, but hates me especially, because I don’t take her crap. When she’s trying to chase me off, I pretend to chase her so she runs and hides and barks at me from behind the sofa or something. Then I start chasing her around the house.
Hooker: My mother gave me 5 kittens once (all pure black, 4 females, 1 male.) Mr. B was the only male and a great cat. His sister though was a total slut. (The other three were taken to the pound.) She would disappear for days and only wake up to eat. She hated getting petted too. So, one day I sat down with her and had serious talk with her: if you don’t improve your behavior, you’re going to the pound, too. That day, she jumped on my lap and fell asleep, so we kept her…until she started screwing her sons and this ugly homeless cat that hung around the neighborhood. That was the last straw.
Pengie: One of Hooker’s kittens. Hooker dropped 3 kittens one time, Dougie, Roachie, and Pengie. I made a box for them next to our dog, and our dog hated them so much he tried to kill them, so Hooker moved them into the storage shed. Roachie wasn’t traumatized, but Dougie imprinted that he was a dog, not a cat (“bark” at strangers, wag his tail when he’s happy, etc.) Pengie though was like a Vietnam vet. I think I pet her like twice before she ran away forever.
