Pets: Part One

I feel like 90% of the questions in my life are covered by two topics:  When are you having kids, and Why don’t you get a pet?  The official short answer to these, in order, is: Mind your own business, and Because I don’t want one.

Since the first one is none of your business, I’ll elaborate on the second.  I hate cats.  Yes, I said it.  It took me a long time to say that out loud, and now it feels good.  J loves cats.  He had a cat his entire childhood and was devastated when she died.  While I admit that, as far as cats go, TJ was decent (unlike the diabolical Callie I bought my aunt & uncle for $5 from the shelter when they got married), she was still a cat.  And cats have the following issues:

1. Claws.  I know its mean to de-claw them, but do they have to use people and things as a scratching/kneading post?  Take it off my leg and to your scratching post, sister.

2. An attitude.  You’re a cat.  You’re not better than me, period.

3. The annoying habit of jumping on you when you’re trying to sleep.  I hate that, it’s a good way to give me a heart attack.  I don’t like anything touching me when I sleep (which is really a story for another day).

I do like dogs, as long as they don’t jump on you or bite (even if its “playful,” it’s still a bite, I don’t care if they’re puppy teeth).  Oh, and I don’t like dogs that weigh more than me and bark when I come near them, even if their owner insists “he’s just saying hi.”  Bull.  That dog could rip my face off, he could say hi a little more nicely.  Oh, and don’t get me started on un-leashed dogs when I’m running.

Seriously, though, I do like dogs.  We always had dogs growing up: Kipper, a lab with no tail that was given to my aunt by a boyfriend and loved by my grandfather more than anything; Zelda, beagle-y mutt that was loyal as anything; Cobi (named by yours truly after Kurt Cobain & Coby Jones), a crazy Springer Spaniel who would rip your arm off on a walk and run away for days to be returned filthy, but happy, by animal control; and the current family pet, Chloe, a puggle so ugly she’s cute, spoiled rotten, petrified of toddlers, and the family baby.  (Here she is, by the way, taking over my couch on a recent visit).

I would love a dog, one who would keep me company when J is out, who would run with me and just be a buddy.  But we’re simply not home enough.  I couldn’t leave a dog alone for 12 hours, it’s just not fair.  If my job was closer to home, or J had a more regular schedule, we’d reconsider it.  When I land my dream job as a housewife who eats bon bons and watches Oprah all day, a dog will be the first thing on my list of things to keep me company!

Next up: Kids vs. Pets: The Ultimate Showdown!

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