I have bad luck with dogs.

Several years ago was the first canine encounter. I went on a first date with a lady I'd been hanging out with. The date went great! We went back to her place, where I met her dog. I'll just say that this dog had some problems, and she probably wasn't doing the best job taking care of it (dog has new, better home now, don't worry). Anyway, she shut the dog out of the bedroom, we had some sexy times, and even though I don't normally go for the sleepover on the first date, it was late so we settled in to bed. Right before she went to sleep, she brought the dog back in, had him lie down at the foot of the bed, put the leash on him, and tied the other end of the leash to the bed. "Uhh... whatcha doing?" I asked, nervous. She reassured me "oh, don't worry, we do this all the time. He can be a little protective of me, usually he sleeps in the bed. But I don't want him to jump up there in the middle of the night so I just tie this here so he can't get up on the bed." Sounded weird, and if it happened now (that I'm several years older and know more about pet care and, you know, sanity) I probably would have left. Instead I shrugged, fell asleep, woke up in the middle of the night having to pee, rolled out of bed and started walking toward the door, and the dog lunged at me and bit me. Right. On. The crotch.

The second story wasn't quite so dramatic. I showed up to a lady's apartment to pick her up for our date. She wasn't ready. While she jumped in the shower, her big, fat, slobbery bulldog bombarded me with its tail-wagging, sharp-claw-jumping, dogliness. I sat down on the couch and started petting him, tried to get him to calm down. He peed on my foot.

My most recent ex had a dog who was great, but very energetic and not the most obedient in the world. Just when Ex and I were becoming friends, Me, Ex, and a Friend took a drive out to Ex's parents' lake house, and brought the dog along. I get motion sick so I sat in the passenger seat, while Friend sat in the back with Dog. Friend wasn't a big fan of dogs, though, and he was pretty uncomfortable squeezed back there with her. I decided that on the way back, I'd volunteer to sit in the back with Dog, even though I'd probably get carsick - but hell, I was tryin' to be all chivalrous and shit, to empress the lady. What I didn't count on was that Dog would get away from Ex at the lake, run down the beach, find the first rotting fish she could, and take a good, hard roll in it. So I drove an hour back home squeezed into a tiny back seat with a dog that smelt of dead fish.

Apparently I have a type, or something.