Woof.

INSPECTOR CLOUSEAU: Does your dog bite?
INNKEEPER: No.
CLOUSEAU leans down to pet the dog, who makes a snarling leap at him. CLOUSEAU pulls his tattered glove and sleeve back and retreats to the doorway.
CLOUSEAU: I thought you said your dog did not bite!
INNKEEPER: It's not my dog.
And so it goes. Strangers routinely approach me when I'm out with my dog, Maddie - asking me just that: Does your dog bite? I have a number of responses for that question. Most of the time I tell them, "No, she's a friendly one. She just sounds vicious." For the obnoxious teenagers who want to make our lives more difficult I say, "Only when I give the secret command." And still other times I tell them, "Not yet."
Part of owning a dog is never knowing for sure when they're going to go off. Maddie has an irrational hatred of anyone wearing the uniform of the U.S. Postal Service, but she's best friends with the UPS guy. She is one of the most patient dogs around children I have ever encountered, but the only two humans she has ever seriously tried to gnaw on are kids. Does that mean I shouldn't trust her around small people? I get a little nervous when she starts to get into her herding mode, but generally I presume safety.
When I'm out running with her, kids stop me and ask if they can pet my dog. I'm happy to do it, and so is Maddie. It makes me feel good to know our dog is the goodwill ambassador for canines - unless you're the mailman.