Does he bite? Yes, but only Jews.

Growing up, two things were drilled into me. Everyone was an anti-Semite, and no matter how cute or lovable a dog looked, it would bite me. Actually, three things: Don't put your shoes on the table, it's bad luck. Now let me get back to the dog thing.

Sybil's fear was legendary.  If someone was walking a dog she would have us cross the street because there is no way it wouldn't lunge at us. If she was to go to someone's house that had a dog, she would request it be locked up or she wouldn't come inside. Most people saw dog ownership as a good way to have a Sybil free safe-zone. She once had a massive fight with my father because they were going to a Christmas party and my father said in advance he wasn't going to ask the host to lock up his dog since everyone loved it and it was friendly. She thought it would be rude of the host not to offer to lock up his family pet of ten years for one out of fifty guests who was irrational.

Between the dog fear and the rampant antisemitism my mother claimed was going on, I assumed German shepherds ran the camps during the Holocaust. Of course as an adult I realize there is no correlation between dogs and gas chambers, otherwise so many Jews wouldn't own wheaten terriers.

Long before my Jewish friends bought their hypoallergenic terriers, Sybil actually broke me of my fear by being a positive person that wanted me to rise above what she was dealing with. Kidding of course. What happened was I was playing at a friend's house who happened to own a dog. The dog never bothered me so I stayed away from it as my mother taught me.

Never make eye contact or it will bite!

Anyway, we were playing outside when Sybil pulled up. She beeped the horn and my friend's dog came running out of the house to the car. Sybil immediately locked the doors. My friend and I looked at each other puzzled. Was the dog going to open the door with its paw? Did she really need the extra level of security? After laughing in her face I was never afraid again.

When I was twenty-six I got a dog of my own and Sybil went insane.

Sybil: HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? YOU KNOW I'M AFRAID!

BARRY: Well, I live 3000 miles away and more importantly I don't live with you.

The first time Sybil visited, I put my mutt on a retractable leash and let him charge her. Just at the last second I would stop him. It was funny all fifty times I did it.  Sadly, my immersion therapy didn't help cure her.

Welsh terrier - not a pussy Wheaten