Gay Dog, Gay Owner?

I was walking my puppy, Samson, last night when I intersected another dog walker and her cute Silky Terrier (it’s bigger than a Yorkie and way silkier). We talked for a minute or two and she told me how cute my dog was, which got no protest from me because he is friggin' adorable and smarter than most people you went to college with and your dad. I reached down to her dog, Elizabeth, she moved toward me, sniffed my hand and went about her business. Her owner was shocked.
"Usually Elizabeth is terrified of men. She's just terrified."
"Oh, well maybe she can feel my good vibe."
I remembered my childhood pet squirrels, Chip and Dale. They would sit on the window sill of our breakfast nook and look in on me. I'd take a bag of peanuts to the backyard and hand feed them until I exhausted my supply. I wasn't the only one in my family who had a way with the rodent. My great-grandfather, Clarence Bell, a mailman in Somersworth, NH, used to have a family of chipmunks that lived in the rocks in his basement that he hand fed from their infancy. I swear, there's pictures.
I used to pretend I could nonverbally communicate with my squirrels just by making eye contact. I also used to think I could will a tennis ball into a net or beyond the baseline, especially when Chris Everett-Lloyd was locked in a battle with Martina Navratilova. I also used to get Chris Evert-Lloyd confused with Christine McVie of Fleetwood Mac. But that's another post.
"I just can't believe that Elizabeth likes you, she really is afraid of men."
Pause.
Me blinking. Her thinking.
Pause.
"Are you gay?" she said jokingly, with a you must be tone.
"Yes." I tried to say it immediately, to prove, I was comfortable with this easy and obvious acknowledgment. Tip: I'm not. Also another post.
And then her nonverbal eye communication -- "Well that explains it."
"You couldn't tell with my dog?"
I have a four month old Shih-Tzu, who's cuter than any kid you'll pop out, except Amanda Clayman's, especially if she's reading this. Then it was over and we went about our business. I was a gay gay non-man because her dog liked me.
A day later, I'm mad. Because what happened is an example of the way some straight women (even some fag hags) view gay men. We’re seen as less than "men". I hate to break it to you ladies, you your dog does not have gaydar. It's a dog. They just respond well to kind people. That's it.
I admit, when I first got Samson, I joked that my dog only liked gay men and straight women. But he’d only met gay men and straight women. Then Samson met my sister's boyfriend. Not gay. And his breeder, Mark, wasn’t gay either. I have realized that my dog is more reserved around straight men I meet on the street. But that's in response to a straight man's reserve toward him. I read many straight men's response to my dog. I get it. When a dog looks like an Ewok, Gizmo and the Olsen Twins it's hard not to froth like a strawberry smoothie with cotton candy frosting. Samson is that cute. More secure straight men can admit it and then punch themselves in the balls to compensate for their lapse. "We tough." Other less secure straight may tense up and get a look like they might want to kill a busload of retarded children with a crossbow. Secretly they want to melt, too. Instead they act macho, realizing a crack in their facade could compromise their status as unadulterated pussy fucking men.
So I ‘m a little mad. This women intended no harm, I truly believe that. But what it speaks to is how wrong we get it. The sensitive male gets pegged the homo. The homo male has to feel bad for liking the small, cute dog. The straight male can't like the cute dog for fear that he'll be labeled the homo. As my straight dad says, "It's pure bullshit." It speaks to our internalized homophobia and what "gay" and "straight" means to us – especially the older we get.
There are several pre-teen boys on my floor. They've yet to be touched by the severe straight acting expectations that will get placed on them as the mature. Right now, they love my dog, think he’s cute and knock on my door to pet and hold him. It's sweet. I've never given thought to who may be gay or straight, I don't even think of myself as a sexual orientation when we're all sitting on the floor outside my apartment joking around and playing with the dog. I just enjoy the moment, free of societal expectations and implications. It brings me back to a time where I would enjoy feeding the squirrels and just being -- there was no anxiety, no fear, just freedom. This weekend, my dad comes from Florida to meet the dog. My guess is the dog's going to love him. If Samson does love him, I wonder if that will mean my dad's gay?