I'm a dog person. I prefer an “emotionally shallow” animal. Having a cat is like having a pet rock that thinks you're a loser. I'm also rather allergic to cat hair so that helps bolster my pro-canine stance.
I thought De Niro's character in Meet The Parents' narrative on cats was perfect.
“The dog is an emotionally shallow animal. If you yell at a dog, his ears will go down and his tail will cover his genitals even if he's done nothing wrong. It's very easy to break a dog. But cats make you work for their affection. Cats don't sell out like dogs do.”Yes, and that's exactly why I don't like cats. I want a pet that gives a fuck, needs me and is thankful I am alive. I guess I'm just a needy bitch like that. Leeway would call me a ball hugger.
Cats just don't give a fuck and what fun is that? They're like “O, great, he's home. Yawn”.
You know what I say to that? “OK, you little furry asshole, then get the fuck out and go fend for yourself. Fake midget tiger bitch.”
Regardless some love cats and think they're sublime. Cold people usually like cats, while warm people usually like dogs. You disagree? Bring it; cuz that's just how it is, cuz.
For some reason people enjoy having a snarky, aloof animal that doesn't give a fuck or need them to survive. It would be an interesting study. I've never seen the type of love for cats that I know for dogs. I just see crazy people. Quasi-bookish-intellectuals, hoarders, collectors and lunatics. They like cats. They keep cats as pets.
People with dogs are different. We're just better. And I mean, real dogs. Big, dumb, ugly dogs. Not little handbag teacup designer dogs. Those people are in a class all their own. And that's fine. Separate but equal works for me.
I think the crux of my beef with cats stems from cat accessories. Namely, kitty litter. If I step into a house that smells like kitty litter, I start to shake. The worst is being locked in a small bathroom with a litter box. Always a great time... You've gotta pee, you close that door and BAM! it's just you and that litter box and that fucking awful smell of silica dust. Enjoy!
A house with a litter box in the bathroom is not unlike a host who asks you take your shoes off before coming inside. Fuck. You.
I guess the charm of cats somewhat eludes me. Cat lovers will say I prefer an “emotionally shallow” animal because I am an “emotionally shallow” person, and that's fine. If cat lovers enjoy having a pet that doesn't give a fuck if they live or die and is often plotting against them, that's their prerogative. Like I said earlier, having a cat is like having a pet rock. Except the pet rock also thinks you're a needless asshole and sees you as the enemy.
If the idea of having a pet is for companionship then that's what I want. I want a big, smelly dog that will snuggle with me when it's cold, lick my face when I get home and bite whoever tries to break into my house. What the fuck is a cat gonna do in that situation? Dream about lasagna while some dude shimmies your flat screen off the wall? Sweet. Good lookin' out, Morris.
Truth be told, your cat is fucking comatose. If I throw a stick at him to play fetch, he'll just look at me, quizzically. Not because he thinks I'm an asshole and not because playing fetch is so below him but because he has no idea what to do. All he knows how to do is scratch shit and sleep.
Cat lovers have spun the stereotypical aloofness of felines to somehow stand for their introspective intellectual prowess. They aren't Monks. They're cats. They act like they don't care because they don't know any better. Inside their little cat head its a constant stream of static and white noise and feedback. Nothing. Blank. Vacant.
That being said, I like cats. Somewhat.
Do I like walking into a fucking bodega and having to smell kitty litter? No, I do not.
Do I like walking into a deli where I have to politely ask Sir Garfield to move so I can buy the fucking Post? No, I don't. And as a general rule, any deli that has a "deli cat" should be crossed off your list of "Places To Get Sandwhiches" immediately. That's a deal breaker.
Yeah, hi, can you get up?
The fact that the store owners keep the kittens to help kill mice doesn't help things, folks. That just makes it even more nasty. Don't you get it?
Here's an article in The Times about deli cats vs. the D.O.H. inspectors.
Yeah, fuck you, too.