“Mom, do you like cats?”
I thought about it, eyeing the orange tabby he cradled. “No, not really.”
My son faked a scandalous expression. “Who doesn’t like cats?”
“Me, that’s who…”
I can understand his confusion. Cats are the only animal we voluntarily care for at the moment, besides his Christmas-present turtle. The cats are the first pets we’ve invited in and kept. I hold them, talk sweetly to them, and feed them. Any second, however, I expect they’ll go for my throat.
I’m just not a cat person. I am, and always have been, a dog person.
My life dream was to travel the country in a pickup truck with several dogs. If I had to have a home, it was going to be a ranch where they could run. I relate far more to Charles Muntz of Up with his posse of trained canines than I do to Madame Adelaide Bonfamille of Aristocats.
Look, I know dogs are dumberer. I got it. And it’s not like I love ALL breeds of dogs. It is like I dislike all breeds of cats, and especially dislike certain breeds.
I think it comes down to trust. I know, given the option, that cats would take over the world, lock us up in a pit, and forget completely about humanity. Dogs, on the other hand, would invite us over for games and treats.
What about you? Are you a cat person or a dog person? Why?
Here are last week’s posts:
Wednesday, January 19: Admitted that no one likes housework in “Neverending Lau-ahn-dreeee.”
Thursday, January 20: Announced the Terrible Poetry Contest. There’s still time to enter a sonnet!
Friday, January 21: An a-maize-ing Friday Photo.
Saturday, January 22: I found my feet! -in poem
Sunday, January 23: A quote by Henry B. Eyring about struggles.
Monday, January 24: “I’m a Mormon, So” I receive personal revelation.
Tuesday, January 25: “Daddy’s Here.”
©2022 Chel Owens