My dad loved animals, particularly dogs. Later in life he developed a strong liking for cats, but I think mainly this is because he found them interesting. He was an awesome parent for a little kid, because he was already speculating about what animals were thinking or why they did what they did, as well as why just about anything happened. ("Daddy, how does the wind blow in the winter when there are no leaves to make the trees move?" was a totally logical question for my dad to field.)
He loved my pit bulls and found them as interesting as any other creatures, but I'm amused thinking of the day he learned they hate walks.
"Let's take the dogs for a walk."
"We can go, but they won't like it."
"All dogs like walks."
"Not these." I took the leashes down from the hook so he could see the effect: Banjo went and sat in the corner, and Annie went into her cage and buried her head.
"My God!" he said. "The agony! Was there some trauma to cause this, or are these dogs just too good to walk on a string like someone's PET?"
I feel like the way he worded that is exactly the way to express their disdain. Leashes? Forget it!