Dog owners, like their beloved canine companions, are wildly insecure. Ask dog owners what they love about their pet, and they go on and on about how the dog is waiting at the foot of the bed when they wake up in the morning, waiting at the door when they get home from work at night, always wagging that tail and happy to see them, always able to cheer them up at the end of a hard day... My thinking is, why do you need so much emotional reassurance from this creature that shits on your carpet twice a week? Conversely, ask a dog lover what they have against cats, and he or she will act like cats are the most unpleasant, disagreeable and anti-social animals on the planet. There's a widely accepted notion - propagated by the all-powerful Dog Lobbyists, no doubt - that cats simply dislike people. Of course this is in no way based in reality, as most cats are very affectionate, and thoroughly enjoy human contact - is there a more satisfied, happy-sounding noise in the world than that of a cat purring while enjoying a good head scratch? But because a cat has too much dignity, quite frankly, to go ape-shit crazy and start slobbering over any and everything it can get close to every time its owner so much as saunters through the door, they get labeled as cold.
Okay, fine, I'll grant that a dog's energy and constant playfulness make it more fun to have around for a day at the beach or the park. But now let's go over a list of just a few of the many activities for which it would be much better to have a cat in the immediate vicinity than a dog:
- Doing laundry
- Building model airplanes
- Ice sculpting
- Decorating a Christmas tree
- Knife juggling
- Practicing ballet
- Defusing a bomb
- Playing that game where you race while balancing an egg on a spoon, and finally
- One word: Jenga.
You don't want a dog anywhere near any one of those activities. They'll ruin everything. You see, a cat will leave you the hell alone when you need to be left alone, while a dog can't stop trying to lick you to death no matter the situation.
That's my biggest problem with dogs - they are space invaders. No, I don't mean they enjoy picking fights with aliens. I'm talking about personal space. For every well-behaved dog I've come across in my life, I've met ten more that jumped on me, licked me, put their dirty-assed paws all over me, pushed themselves up into my face, and just generally made me miserable every second I was around them. I like dogs just fine if they're trained well enough to be respectful and allow you to pet them without going fucking crazy, but when you're sitting on your buddy's couch and there's some mutt trying to get at your face every four seconds? Think about it. If you're at your office Christmas party, and Stan from accounting has had a few too many to drink, and he gets a little touchy-feely, a little too much in your personal space, you're going to be wildly uncomfortable, desperately searching for a way out of the conversation. We've all been in that situation, and it's nothing short of horrifying. Yet it's perfectly acceptable for a filthy animal to engage in this very behavior? Madness.
Why else are cats better than dogs? Well, for one, they're incredibly clean. This is an underrated quality cats have. What other animal bathes itself so frequently? That's really all cats do: eat, sleep, act incredibly hilarious whenever ping-pong is being played, and bathe. And not only are they clean, they're potty-trained pretty much from birth. I have no idea how this gets glossed over - or even ignored altogether - in the cats vs. dogs debate. This is a huge deal! So you're telling me this animal can do right out of the gate what it takes human beings like two fucking years to figure out?! Wouldn't it be every parent's wildest dream come true if their newborn baby was exactly like cats, in this one respect?
Also, quietly, cats are bad-ass hunters. I used to have a dog named Ginger who lived to chase squirrels. It was not only her life's work; it was her passion as well. And in seventeen years, having gone after no fewer than 32,000 squirrels, this dog may have caught three of them. Why is this? A dog's hunting technique is simple: see a squirrel, go bounding away after it with reckless abandon. What's that you say? The squirrel has a ninety-three yard head-start on me? Don't care. I'm going after that damn squirrel. Meanwhile, cats are like snipers: once they make their presence known, it's already over. Have you ever seen a cat attack an animal? It's awesome! When I was about eight, my brother and I were out playing in the yard when we noticed our cat Sparkles crouched motionless in the grass nearby. We were puzzled at first, wondering why he was so still, but then we looked a few feet away* and saw a precious, frightened little bunny. The rabbit was frozen in fear; Sparkles was as calm and steady as a champion poker player during a critical hand. He stayed there, crouching, just staring the bunny down with an icy gaze. It was a tense couple of minutes, a classic standoff. Finally the bunny decided it had no choice but to try and make a run for it, but as soon as one leg muscle twitched, Sparkles was on him. Don't worry; the bunny didn't suffer for very long. Sparkles took him out brutally, but swiftly.
Now, that should have been a traumatic event to witness as an eight-year-old boy, but honestly, I was impressed. After it happened, my brother turned to me and said flatly, "That rabbit never had a chance." Are you serious?! That's like something out of an old Schwarzenegger movie. Why do cats not get enough credit for being such bad-asses? Or for all the other great qualities they possess?
Look, I could go on and on with this, but the point is I'm sick and tired of cats getting such a bad rap, while dogs are getting treated like god's greatest creation. So to finish this off, on behalf of cats everywhere, I'd like to send the following message to all dogs: Meow meow meow, meow meow, meow meow, bitches.