Dogs: let's be honest.

For those who know me, it will come as no surprise that I have little shortage of honesty--a painful quality at times. However, I have grown up in the south, which encourages people to smile when they are really frustrated and say things like "Bless your heart" when they really mean "You're an idiot." We southerners like to put a glossy finish on all our sentences. Typically, I buck the system and just tell it how it is, but when it comes to dogs, I've been a true Southern Belle for far too long.

For years, I have pretended to like dogs, to smile when I see them, and to pet them just enough to convince those around me that I'm fond of those furry animals. But here's the (painful) truth: I am awkward and uncomfortable around dogs. It's not that I hate dogs; theoretically and from a distance, they are delightful creatures. Up close, however, I'm like a 12-year-old boy at a dance: he likes girls and will talk in the corner with his friends about them, but when he actually has to dance with one, well, it's awkward.

So, I've decided that it's time to be honest about my awkwardness around dogs and to stop pretending that I'm natural with them. If you've ever seen me around dogs, you know that I'm anything but natural. I'm not really afraid of them or have had a particularly bad experience with them, but when I'm around dogs--any kind of dog--I have an aversion to them and become stiff and jumpy and just generally uncomfortable. I have several theories about why I have this problem including (but not limited to): my dad's aversion to dogs, the fact that my parents thought a half rottweiler-half lab would be a great pet for young children (the thing outweighed me in a few months), and that I'm a bit of a neat/germ freak and don't like dog smells.

So, if you have a dog, please know that I still want to hang out with you, that I'm not an animal hater, and that I'll even hang out with you AND your dog...and even pet it! But when you see me looking reminiscently like a pre-teen at a dance, just know that it's not your dog; it's me. Honest.