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!