I have known for a long time that I am not a dog person. I don’t like the drooling or the barking or the fact that they always seem to smell. Or the shedding. Oh my god the shedding! (Don’t at this point be like Oh but Margaret, cats shed too! I know. I am very aware. But IT’S DIFFERENT.) Also, please don’t lick my face. I feel this is not a request I should have to make.
If you’re still reading, hurray! I hope I have not alienated all of the two people who might be reading this. Please keep going, I’m sure I’ll get to the point eventually.
I have worked for a dog training school for a few years of my life, so it’s not that I haven’t been around “good dogs”. I have. There are three or four specific dogs that I would take home in a moment. But only those. Other than that, I pet them and try to move away before they think they can start licking me. But Maverick, Misha, and some other dog (I’m sure there’s at least one more, but I can’t think of them right now) were sweet and well trained and beautiful. BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT.
What is the point, you might ask? LET ME GET THERE.
My point is that my cat attacked me last night and within an hour I was cooing and trying to pet him again.
It’s kind of like when someone says “Oh I don’t like kids”
And someone else replies “It’s different when they’re your own”
Usually this gets a big eye roll and I snarkily text a friend about how I’m not having children, so fuck that.
But here I am, having to defend the fact that my cat ripped up my arm and I still love him. Is my cat my child? No, he’s more like a nephew I have to take care of while his mother finishes college. Am I a saint? Well, I wouldn’t call myself that, but you can.
But back on topic: I like cats because they remind me of myself. This cat specifically. He’s independent (or he pretends to be) and skittish and gets whiny when he’s hungry. Ask anyone and they will agree that these are my main personality traits.
Cats don’t like to be forced into things. They will fight and claw and bite just to be in charge of themselves. They will glare and hate you until they decide to love you. Much like myself.
I like to be independent until I need something else, so then I’ll cuddle up next to someone in bed. Wait no, that’s the cat. I don’t like people in my bed. Only cats and books.
Overall, I see myself in cats. I prefer quiet and calm, so I can curl up in a ball and fall asleep. No, that’s not the cat. That’s me this time. Dogs are loud and get in the middle of everything. The only time I can count on the cat getting in the way is when I’m watching TV or when I’m doing yoga. So if I have to put up with scratches like these every so often, I’ll do it for a little mini me running around.