I parents owned a cockapoo while growing up, and my siblings and I didn't like it because it was aggressive as hell and my mother treated it like an actual factual babby.

Once my sister was eating a hot pocket, and the dog wanted it, so it mauled her badly. It jumped up on the table randomly and mauled her face. It took several surgeries to get her face back to normal. My mother lied and told the police she had it destroyed.

About 3 years later, it became paralyzed from the waist down after it attacked me. It jumped for my face and landed wrong. It didn't die, and my mother blames me for the incident to this day, 30 or so years later.

It would piss and shit all over everything until it died of old age about a decade later. All the while, my mother treated it more and more like a baby because it couldn't get away, and it wore diapers when my mother wasn't too lazy.

I'm sure most of my issues with the dog were due to the owner being a shitty person.

Though after it ate part of my sister's face, I'm convinced that it saw everyone but my mother as "meat," which is why I couldn't get along with the dog. I mostly tolerated it until I emancipated myself early.