USA TODAY

February 21, 2001, Wednesday,
FINAL EDITION SECTION: LIFE; Pg. 1D; The final word  

Dogs know a bad character when they see one  

-- By Craig Wilson  

We had a young man over for dinner the other night. We didn't know him. Mutual friends thought we should get together.  

Our dog, Murphy, as is her tradition, ran down the stairs to greet him, but the man went about taking off his overcoat and scarf and paid her no mind.  

We went up to the living room. I offered him a drink, and Murphy positioned herself next to the sofa where he was sitting, waiting to have her head scratched. Nothing happened. She moved in closer.  

Finally, when Murphy nudged her nose under the guy's hand in a none-too-subtle suggestion that perhaps he could spare a scratch or two, the young man finally snapped.  

"Get away!"The room went silent. Murphy looked at me as if to ask, "Who is this guy?" and I looked at the guy as if to ask, "Who is this guy?" and the guy looked back at both of us as if to ask, "What are you two staring at me for?"  

The man did not like dogs and, excuse the pun, made no bones about it.  

"Were you attacked once?" I asked. No.  

"Are you allergic?" I asked. No.  

"I just don't like dogs," he said.  

It was a long evening.  

The good thing about dogs is that they know a jerk when they see one. Shortly thereafter, Murphy jumped up on the sofa to sit right next to our guest in a defiant "this is my house, buster" maneuver.  

I laughed all the way down the stairs to check on dinner. When I returned, the guest had moved to a chair.  

My friend Lisa always judges her dates by how they treat her dog. She says it's a foolproof way to separate the good guys from the bad. Another woman I know was seeing a guy who was simplifying his life and in the process got rid of his dogs. She got rid of him. I'd say she made the right choice.  

Ever since that evening with our dinner guest, I've been contemplating inviting him to the Bark Ball, the annual black-tie benefit for the Washington Humane Society (washhumane.org).  

Last year it attracted 1,000 guests and 300 dogs. (Murphy did not attend. She doesn't do big events.)  

To a dog lover, the evening is glorious mayhem -- tuxedoed men looking for the bar, women in evening gowns looking for the powder room, while their dogs sniff around the ballroom for a little love, or at least an hors d'oeuvre.  

While I was having my appetizer last year, a black Lab named Sophie came up and put her head on my lap, waiting for a little stroking, which she got. She also got some chicken when the entree came around. She knew a sucker when she saw one.  

And then the band began to play, and the next thing I knew, I was out on the dance floor with a yellow Lab pup in my arms, my tuxedo covered with a thousand hairs. I didn't care. With apologies to all my prom dates of yore, she was the best dance partner I've ever had, giving me a big, wet thank-you kiss when the music stopped.  

Murphy did care, however. The minute I walked in the door, she knew I had been with someone else.  

As I said, dogs know a jerk when they see one.