On a lighter note, or at least considerably lighter than some of our poli-sci, John Locke vs. Ken Kesey topics, I want to explain to all of you out there in TV land why I have chosen a path more akin to inner calm, rather than the more masculine way-of-the-spaz. To rephrase, here’s why I prefer cats to dogs.
Firstly, I’d like to address the fallacy that the Canis lupus familiaris, rather than, say, coffee, women, $krilla, or some kind of woman made of coffee and $krilla, is man’s “best friend”. In short, if I had a friend who made me buy him food, slept on my bed, chewed my things incessantly, didn’t contribute anything to monthly household expenses, and crapped on my lawn, I would be hard pressed to call him my “best” friend. Come to think of it, I pity anyone who reads this and finds a lot of similarities between my exaggerated explanation of the canine society and their best pal.
These acts of sleeping, lounging, begging and pooping are more akin to frat boys and vagabonds than what I would imagine my birth-to-earth bosom buddy. At least with cats there’s no surprise. They don’t really care for you, and have no intention of doing anything they don’t want to. But you expect that from a cat, and from the moment they finally shed all shreds of adorability and verge from kitten to fully fledged feline, they make their disdain for you abundantly clear. You’re more of their life-support than their life partner, but, again, you knew that from the start. Don’t give me a turn and call it a caramel. And don’t give me a hyperactive lay-about and call him my best friend.
On a related note, I’d like to address the relative neediness of the Canis lupus familiaris to the Felis catus. A dog requires walking, petting, poop-scooping (how many “best friends” make you join them in the bathroom as they do their business and leave you to flush it down?) petting, fetching, petting, quieting down, and petting. It’s similar to a child; a child that will never support you during your golden years. A cat, however, requires much less. A cat asks little more of you than to give it a box to pee in, and to get the hell out of its sight. The cat is more like an emotional and angstful teenager with far too much eye makeup, interacting with you only for basic amenities and reminding you to knock before you barge into his room.
So, to wrap it up, let me break it down for you old school, dogs = needy, overly excited, drunken frat boys. Cats = Robert Smith. The choice is simple, really, and if you’re lucky, your feline feller might just write the next “Boys Don’t Cry”, or at the very least “Lovecats"
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