Semantics and Acts of Dog

She stood there, hackles standing straight up, teeth gleaming in the hallway light, and the low growl rumbled from her throat.

Not that I was worried. Mitzi, the chihuahua who was giving me attitude, weighs all of ten pounds. I just didn't want to kick her down the hall with her owner in the next room; that might be rude.

"Lisa, Mitzi's growling at me, and I think she's getting ready to bite," I said.

"Don't worry. She's not growling at you. She's growling at Mojo." Lisa replied. Mojo being the 120-pound horse-like dog silently trailing me.

Then I started wondering if I sounded needlessly panicked. Did I sound scared that a ten-pound dog was threatening me? I hope not -- I really wasn't (honest!). I've been bit by dogs before. My old dog, Spot, bit me so badly when I was ten that the scar took 12 years to go away. A friend's dog took a chunk of arm from me once too. Come to think of it, a kid at my old babysitter's took a chunk of arm from me as well, and the dog came off better than he did. But that's another tale for another day.

I guess what I'm getting at here is how I came off looking, and how people percieve us for what we say or how we come across. I was concerned because I didn't want to kill my friends' dog, which could have happened had she bit me and I sent her through the wall into the next room. I just wanted to pee; not commit doggie murder.

But after I left for home that night, did Lisa say to her husband, Brian, that I was scared of their rat - err-- dog?

I encounter this situation a lot. I think many people do; you ask a question with one meaning but the person on the receiving end has a completely different interpretation. And last night, as I lay awake (in what's becoming a weekly ritual: Sunday night sleeplessness), I started thinking about this.

And I came to this conclusion: rather than worry about it, next time, I'm just going to boot the dog into next week.