My father was a big softy: which was why so many people loved him. But he always tried to hide this aspect of himself… fooling nobody. Every dog knew this man could be had.
Our cat Henry was a very discerning feline. If I had let him pick my friends, I would’ve done better. He had little use for most of the people we brought into our home. They could “kitty-kitty!” him all they liked and he still wouldn’t go near them.
So there’s my father sitting on the rocking chair in our living room, discoursing on how much he loves dogs but cats, nah, not his cup of tea, never could warm up to cats. You big faker, you. Because there’s choosy, discriminating Henry sitting on his lap! Purring. And getting petted.
Your animals know who’s good, who’s not. Don’t be afraid to trust them.