I never had a dog while growing up - grandparents were allergic to the fur and confining an animal to a small apartment for most of the day didn’t seem humane. I like dogs, but I’m not really used to them, and some dog owner behavior is just downright confusing to me: one minute they’re baby-talking in a saccharine voice (”Hi there sweetie, who’s mommy’s cutie pie?”) and the other minute they’re dragging the poor critter around by the neck. Still, I’ve held on to the possibility of having a dog someday, maybe when I have a house.

Now I’m staying in a house with two dogs, and I’m getting a preview of pet ownership. Julie has a broken-haired Jack Russell terrier named Jackie, and her boyfriend Tim has a rottweiler named Meat. When we wake up in the morning and crack the door open, Jackie bolts in and hops on the bed; she’s hyper but cute. Meat is chill, he matches my personality better.

Yesterday we went dog-walking twice: first on the beach with Jackie (Meat was too big for the car drive down) and then around the neighborhood with both dogs. Laguna Beach scenery is picture-perfect: we walked past a complex where Gwen Stefani had her wedding shower and I’m sure I’ve seen some of the other buildings on TV. The beach was full of other dogs and people who wanted to pet Jackie. Some guys meet girls by taking the dog to the park, and now I see how that works - everyone wants to talk to you when you’re attached to a cute, curious, playful furball.

Later I was strolling down a suburban side-street with Meat on a leash, and a lady with two big brown dogs was walking toward us. “Come on by and say hi”, she said, “they’re very friendly.” The situation seemed harmless: her dogs wagged their tails, Meat ambled over, sniffed, and then, when he was only a foot away, snarled madly and tried to eat one of the dogs’ heads. I had to yank him away, scorching my fingers with the leash. “Sorry, guess he’s not in a social mood today.” We hastily got out of there. My future dog will have to be a little smaller than Meat.