I’m very suspicious of guys, and people in general for that matter, if they say they don’t like dogs. A red flag pops up in my head, and I immediately feel a disconnect with the person.

Now don’t take me for one for those dog freaks who treat their pets like humans. No, dogs have their place in my book, and it’s under my command. But the other day I was talking a guy who mentioned he wasn’t very fond of man’s best friend, and I was slightly put off.

How could you not like dogs? I’m not saying you have to set a place for them at the kitchen table or carry pictures of them in your wallet, and I definitely don’t think everyone should own one or seven, but expressing disdain for one of the world’s most loyal creatures—may be a symptom of a very cold heart.

Let me try explaining another way. When I see a guy greet a dog in a high-pitched puppy voice saying, “hey there buddy, how ya doing?” A Ralph Lauren ad immediately flashes in my head of a beachside deck where a great-looking model wearing a tight-fitting Polo shirt and khakis is laughing and playing with a handsome Tibetan Terrier. Girls don’t necessarily realize it, but their brain then subconsciously replaces themself for the dog, and they imagine that loving affection being directed toward them.

But silly romance fantasies aside, not liking dogs is just, well, un-American. When someone says he doesn’t like dogs, its synonymous with him saying he doesn’t like backyard BBQs or singing the song “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” If someone says he doesn’t like dogs, I assume he also despises smiling little kids with sticky popsicle hands (sure, they’re a little gross, but so cute) or Disney movies from the late 70s/early 80s era. Seriously, if a guy doesn’t cry at the end of the Fox and the Hound, he is a cold, cold soul, because all these things I said above represent one thing: love (and America). In short, people who don’t like dogs, don’t like love.

I agree that dogs aren’t convenient. They shed, slobber, stink, poop, and make it significantly more difficult to go on vacation. I’m not an advocate for everyone owning a dog. And I’m equally not an advocate for dog lovers owning dogs and not controlling them or picking up after their poop. But that is irrelevant to my point. My point is that one must embrace the “idea” of the dog—loyalty, devotion, and love, as well as their affinity for chasing squirrels, rolling in the mud, and doing dumb tricks for food.

So my recommendation to all you dog haters out there is to hide your spite. Nobody wants a dog hater in this country just like nobody wants a terrorist. And in the meantime, add Old Yeller, White Fang, and Homeward Bound to your Netflix queue. No one but the devil himself can still despise those slobbering hairballs after watching these canine classics.