As the oldest of four, I was perfectly happy with this arrangement. Having brothers, I could delicately beg off doing the inevitable lawn duty that came with three free canines, and instead could focus on doling out milkbones to our communal pets. We didn't own any animals, yet every summer night at least one of these pooches would whine, scratch, or bark at our door, eager to get snacks, get pats, and go play fetch when we had finished dinner.
I can still remember my dad, shaking his head in the kitchen as he recounted to my mom his first meeting with what would become our favorite dog : "Cath, I just lost 10 years off my life... I was putting out the trash, right, and I see this enormous Doberman--huge!-- looking at me from up the street. So I slowly start to come back towards the house, and he starts running towards me. Not barking, just running. And I'm like, this is it. So he flies up, comes to a stop beside me, and starts nudging my knee. Would you believe... He just wanted to be pet! Must have just starched his ears for a good 20 minutes out there, wanted to make sure we were friends!"
Conan the Doberman, Sadie the Shepherd, and Bozly, the roly poly Pitbull who would eat absolutely anything... pebbles were not off limits even: these dogs were among the sweetest, friendliest animals I've ever known. It was only as an adult that I realized there was anything unusual about this arrangement.
And that's how I learned not to be prejudiced.
"Do unto others as you would have done unto you." Luke 6:31