Irritable Bowel Syndrome Message Boards

I don't blame you for being upset ABOUT your aunt's dog. There's no excuse for bad pet behavior, whether it's from a dog OR a cat. BUT -- the fault is with your aunt, NOT the dog. Everyone who has a pet has a responsibility to teach it manners. No one wants to come to your home to visit, only to have a ill-mannered animal jump up on him or her for any reason whatsoever.

I am terribly allergic to cats (it's the dander, not the cat); my eyes swell up and itch, my throat itches, and I can't stop sneezing. When I go to a friend's house to visit, and they allow their cat to rub up against me despite my protestations, I have to turn around and leave. It's not the cat's fault, but the friend who allows it. It's called bad pet manners. I don't blame the cat; I blame the friend for allowing it.

Let me tell you a little dog story. You may not like dogs, but this is a story you can at least appreciate. Back in 1974, hubby and I had a little seaside cottage on the coast in Northern California. It had a lot of windows all around and a front door of all glass -- to let in the incredible view of the ocean. Very romantic, very scenic. At the time, we had a very big dog -- a doberman named Max. That dog was incredibly intelligent and very obedient. We saw to it -- taking him to dog class (he graduated) and religiously working with him, training him to obey and respect us and our family. There's nothing that dog wouldn't have done to protect us.

One day I was home alone in the middle of the day. I had just gotten out of the shower when two strange men came to the front door and knocked, very loudly. I had a towel wrapped around me, nothing more, and I was scared; the men could see me right through the glass on the front door. I don't know whether they knew I was home alone, but I had a very bad feeling about them. Max knew I was afraid -- he smelled it -- and he came tearing into that living room, ready to protect me, and charged at the front door. Those men turn around and beat feet out of there so fast, I hardly knew what happened. I never did find out what they wanted, nor did I care. I didn't need a gun for protection; I had my beloved dog, Max. He calmed down as soon as the men ran away and came over to me to make sure I was okay; all he needed for reassurance was a hand on him.

Now THAT's what a dog can do for you!

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<img src="http://home.comcast.net/~letsrow/smily3481.gif">Bevvy

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