Audrey was bitten on the face by a dog really badly when she was 3 years old. You would think that this would have made her mortally afraid of dogs for the rest of her life, but somehow she still loves them. I, however, have never been a big animal lover. I know that this is nearly the most unpopular thing that I could say in this pet-crazy nation, but there you have it. They certainly aren't trying to endear themselves to me when they try to chew half my daughter's face off.
Audrey is more nervous around dogs than she used to be since she got bit. Her initial instinct is still to get excited and run up to dogs, but if they turn and start walking or lurching towards her, she turns on her heels and runs the other way. The cruel joke of this is that I am then left to make conversation with the kindly people that have already stopped for Audrey to say hi to their dog.
Yesterday was a typical scene: Audrey runs up to a dog. The dog moves towards her. The dog owners nicely stop and ask if she wants to pet the dog. Audrey is already 20 feet away, running in circles and flapping her arms. I am left to do the thing I would never in a million years do otherwise -- pet the nice doggy, ask what his name is, tell them how beautiful and wonderful and sweet he is, all the while trying to distract them from the fact that Audrey is running in circles around us, getting tangled in the leash, falling on her face, extricating herself from the leash, and hyperventilating with joy. The dog owners go to move on, possibly sensing my insincerity, and Audrey starts whining. I tell her that she has to say goodbye to Maggie/Murphy/Bailey/Brady/Grady/Sadie. As she is torn away and forced to move on, she says "I want a dog to be Audrey's dog, then it couldn't say goodbye."
All together now. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. Shut it.
Still. Not. Getting. A. Dog.