I don’t mind if my goldfish see me naked - though their mouths open in astonishment at my manly equipment. 
I don’t like seeing myself naked though. I’m rather prudish and promptly blush, causing the blood to rush to my face. 
My favorite: http://www.funtoosh.com/new_timepass/kitty.php
Hmmmm… This thread reminds me of an incident that happened to my father, somewhere around 1967 or 1968… It has become a memorable event in family lore.
OK. Let’s begin at the beginning. I am Spanish, and grew up in the city of Albacete. The place can get really hot in summer (fortunately it is dry heat, so you are OK if you find a suitably shadowed place, or are indoors).
Nonetheless, it was HOT on that particular summer day. Faithful to the Spanish traditions, my parents were having a nap in the middle of the day. Hot as the day was, they were both sleeping totally naked on top of the bed, no bedclothes covering their bodies.
There was a cat in the house, and it seems that she decided to have a look into the bedroom (the door was kept open, anyway, to allow for some air to circulate around). We can only speculate what went through the cat’s head… But I guess that it must have been something to the effect of: “Lo and behold! What is there, on top of the bed, if not a tasty-looking sausage thing?” Possibly the cat tensed her muscles, sprang…
My mother says that she was rudely awoken from her nap by the most blood-curdling scream she had heard, ever. She looked and saw my father, yelling like deity knows what, with the cat holding with claws and teeth onto my father’s “sausage”, very possibly intent on not letting her prey go, no matter what.
My mother immediately tried to get the cat out of there, but to no avail. My father, having recovered some powers of movement at that point, tried to help by pressing on the sides of the cat’s head with his hands, to try and force her to open her jaws. Nothing to be done! The cat was NOT letting go, and that was it!
Finally, my mother ran towards the bathroom (although she was loth to leave my father to deal with the ferocious predator on his own) and went back as quickly as possible carrying a bucket full of water that had been used to mop the floor. She threw the water all over my father and the cat, which finally convinced the cat to let go and get the hell out of there. Drying and airing the bed afterwards was quite an endeavour as well.
My father’s manhood was lacerated and bleeding, and I don’t want to even begin to think how the whole thing must have felt. Fortunately for everbody involved, my father was a doctor and my mother a nurse, and they managed to patch things up well. A course of rabies vaccine was given “just in case” (for the record, the cat ended up not being rabid), and my father sported a rather weird “turban” down there for the best part of three weeks.
The cat was “missing in action” for some days, and then she came back, as if nothing had happened. It took a lot of pleading on the part of other members of the household to prevent my father from handing down an immediate death sentence on the animal. She was kept under observation, but no rabies symptoms came to light.
To this day nobody knows what impelled “Pitusa” (that was her name) to launch such a terrible strike against my father’s manhood.
I like this man. Can we keep him?
I always wanted to be a kept man…
I don’t mind my dog seeing me naked, but the damned horse’s hysterical laughter really pisses me off.
I don’t mind being naked in front of animals. I have a cat who insists that potty time is not a one-creature thing. He refuses to go without an accompanying human, and also insists that humans are incapable of going without accompaniment. You just kind of get used to it, I guess.