Cat person, dog person
Most of my life I’ve been a cat person. I love everything about cats (except for the clawing up the furniture part). They’re mostly independent, take no crap from anyone and are soothing to pet. I once had a male cat, but had to give him away because he was too needy. I replaced him with an aloof female cat and we got along just fine. I’ve had cats all my life.
Because I had always known myself as a cat person, and disdained those misguided dog people, I wasn’t very supportive when several years ago Hedon first suggested we get a dog to travel with us in the truck. And by not supportive, I mean, Hedon said, “It would be fun to get a dog,” and I said, “Hell no.”
Since our company required that all cats in trucks must be de-clawed and we could never do that to a cat, we were destined to remain petless.
Hedon kept after me, though. Every once in a while she would murmur something like, “Isn’t that dog over there cute?” or “This would be a great place to take a dog for a walk,” or “It sure would be nice if I had a dog to sit on my lap and look up at me all adoringly.” Sigh. Hedon isn’t known for her subtlety.
I finally gave in, for Hedon’s sake, and that’s how we got Maggie. I could go on and on about how dogs are different from cats, blah blah blah you’ve heard it all before. And there’s no point in telling how Maggie won me over. I mean, look at her picture; who wouldn’t love her?
Cat person or dog person? Which am I now? I think neither. I’m a pet slut, i.e., I love the pet I’m with.