It’s not that I think you’re a bad person. You’ve done nothing to give me that impression. But my dog doesn’t like you, so we can’t be friends.

If you’re alive in 2016, you’ve undoubtedly seen a certain sentimental meme floating around Facebook along the lines of “I’m suspicious of people who don’t like dogs, but I definitely trust a dog when it doesn’t like a person.” Boom, nailed it. My dog doesn’t like you, so I don’t want you in my life. No hard feelings, OK?

Like I said, I don’t have a problem with you. My dog does. My dog doesn’t really like anyone, to be honest. He’s kind of an idiot. Ever since I caught him lapping up antifreeze in the garage as a puppy, he’s been just a little off. He can’t tell the difference between the sounds of a car door closing down the block and a pack of bloodthirsty ISIS marauders standing on my porch. I’ve had the same guy delivering my pizza for six years now and my dog goes ballistic each time he shows up, even after the poor guy started bringing him jerky treats. Regardless, I wholeheartedly trust this animal with the IQ of a glue-sniffing toddler to accurately evaluate and pass judgment upon the near-infinite complexity of a human’s psychological and moral character. Afterwards, he’ll be eating cat turds out of the litterbox or trying to hump the dehumidifier. My dog is a better person than you, and he can’t even pay taxes.
And yeah, I give him puppy kisses too, right on the mouth. I don’t care if he just finished drinking out of the toilet and licking his privates for an hour before nosing through my methhead neighbor’s trash. The mouth of a dog is cleaner than a human mouth, period. I read that on the internet. But I digress. I don’t care if you like dogs or not. Maybe you love dogs. Maybe you’ve saved children from drowning or some shit. I don’t care. Here’s your coat, there’s the door. Bye!