I collected my mail (one piece for me and four for the previous tenant) and got into a waiting elevator. The other tenant made small talk, chattering about our mail issues. The elevator stopped on the garage floor, and an older man got in with his large, white dog.

Fun fact #2145 about me: I don�t like dogs.

I apparently taste something like a jerky treat, as many dogs have placed their large mouths around me for a taste. So when a dog that weighs half of what I do approaches me, I brace myself. That dog�s choppers are certainly going to do more damage than a Pekingese.

Simply put: If I don�t know the dog, I don�t want it approaching me while not completely under control -- on a leash, understanding commands, or within three feet of a taser to take him down if need be.

That�s not to say that I haven�t liked some dogs. However, that took multiple visits with trusted friends to demonstrate just how sweet their snookums-pup was.

In an instance where people I trust have a dog I still don�t trust, my brother�s dog Max has been part of the family since 1998. However, since I�ve not lived with my parents since 1995, I don�t know this dog. And since he weighs 80% of what I do, has a habit of trying to prop his paws onto my shoulders to say hello, and gets all excited at the smallest stimuli, I still request that he stay outside during much of my visit.

So we�ve established that I don�t like dogs and that I don�t like the Clintons. Yeah, I�m no fun.

This older man gets onto the elevator, and immediately his dog excitedly approaches me. He starts licking my feet, making his way up my leg. I�m cringing, I�m in the corner, I�ve got my eyes closed and my head turned.

�Aww, don�t worry. He won�t hurt you.�

You know what? Those are the dogs who maul three-year-olds. It�s always said afterward in an interview, �I don�t know what happened. Fifi�s never hurt a fly. I don�t know why she tore off half of little Tyler�s skull.�

Dogs are smart. Dogs are sometimes large. Dogs aren�t to be trusted.

If all 15-pounds of Hambone swept into a frenzy on my ass, I�d get some nasty scratches and at worst might lose a eye. With a dog, however, note the case of little Tyler above.

The man�s large, white dog ignored the man�s, �Snoopy! Get over here. Knock it off!� and went to the elevator�s other passenger. Again with the sniffs. Again with the licks. The owner is continuing to �command� is beast into compliance.

After finally getting enough of a taste for blood on his tongue, Snoopy finally sits at his owner�s feet. I�m still cowering in the corner after my accosting. I smell the unmistakable stench of dog as we ride the elevator up to my floor.

Gawd, I friggin� dislike dogs. Smart, sometimes large, not to be trusted, and unable to clean themselves. Argh.

When I get off at my floor and the doors are closing, the old dog owner says very sarcastically, �Have a nice life.�

I turned back around and grabbed the elevator door to keep it from closing.

�Excuse me you. I don�t know you. I don�t know your dog. However, I do know that your dog was in a common area without a leash and was not controlled by you. He approached me, ignored you, and continued tasting on me. You don�t know my history with the �sweetest, nicest, never-gonna-harm anyone� dogs. Just because your dog is nice to you and the people you know doesn�t mean that he�s going to react the same way toward me. And what�s with the snitty little comment? That was uncalled for, especially since we live in the same gawd-damn building. Do you really think that you�ll never see me again in the next several years of our mortgages? That I�ll ignore your snotty remark? That I�ll forget that the crotchety old man on the 20th floor is a rude bastard who lets his stinky dog run free without a leash? That he�s inconsiderate not to consider that not everyone wants to be friends with Snoopy? Now, you, sir, can have a nice life.�

[elevator doors close]�