When I was in ninth grade, I got bitten on the wrist by a dog at a house where I was babysitting. It left a white rope of a scar, and I was afraid of dogs after that. My mother had no tolerance for such skittishness, so she threw a dog party and invited everyone she knew who had a dog to come to our house with their pet. She was going to Alcoholics Anonymous then, and all her friends were from AA. You can't lump AA people into a single category. They're like the cast of Sesame Street — all colors, abilities, ages, and orientations. But AA people do have one thing in common: they love their dogs.
The party was in our backyard. Everyone smoked cigarettes and drank coffee while Mom brought each dog over to me and insisted I pet it. She wanted me to kiss her friend Tammy's poodle, but Tammy said, "No! She'll bite if you put your face too close to hers." I looked at my mom as if to say, Why would you put me in a situation where my face could be ripped apart by a poodle?
My fear of dogs didn't end at that party. My mother's policy from then on was if anyone who owned a dog came to our house, the dog had to come, too. Once, I got home around one in the morning, wasted on Mike's Hard Lemonade, and undressed as I walked toward my room. All I wanted was to get in bed, shut my eyes, and not vomit. I was naked when I climbed under the covers and felt something warm and hairy against my body. I screamed and fell on the floor.
My mother got to the light switch before I did. She was in a nightgown, and there was a guy beside her in his boxers. He looked about ten years younger than my mother. On my bed was a panting, gray-haired dog. I grabbed a pillow and held it in front of my naked body.
"That's Thelonious," my mom said, laughing. "He likes to sleep in a bed."
"He's seventeen," the guy said. "He doesn't even have teeth."
"Can't he sleep with you?" I asked.
"He farts," the guy said.
"Come on," I said. "I don't want him."
"It's just one night," my mom said, still laughing. I didn't argue, afraid she would smell the alcohol on my breath. She thought I didn't drink.
