(I would have liked to blog yesterday, but ran out of time and didn't have anything to post that I could do quickly enough. However, I now have a brief, brain-farty post that I can put up, so that you can experience what could have been if I'd had an idea.)
My brother is the god of the dogs.
No, really. They worship him.
Today, he stopped by our house for less than half an hour. And the dogs went mad.
One of the dogs used to belong to him, so it might be a more normal phenomenon if it were just her. But all dogs love him. (Well, he claims that there was one, once, that didn't, but I'll believe it when I see it. Besides, if he is the god of the dogs, it must have been a dog atheist.)
And when I say all, I mean all. We used to own a dog that was very nearly a monster. He liked women quite well, but he tended to just latch on to a single person and then treat every other human being like an enemy, or at least no friend of his. He was even mean to our other dog at the time, and everyone loved her. (She was just that sweet, hence her name-Sugar.)
But even though he particularly hated large men (e.g., my dad, or me for that matter, although I was quiet enough he never attacked me-and yes, that was a concern), smokers, and most other varieties of men, he loved my brother. Despite my brother being a smoker, he adored him. During supper when he visited, this dog would attempt to fuse himself to his leg. (He had weird ways of being affectionate.) This from a dog that frequently attempted to break down doors because he wanted to maul utility workers to death.
When my brother left after his few minutes here today, both of our dogs sat there, quietly whining and whimpering, for five minutes or so. Then, being dogs, they forgot he was ever here and went back to more normal annoying dog activities, as their short-term memory ran out, but still...
Most cats, on the other hand, don't care for him at all.