While I own a cat, I don’t really consider myself a “cat” person. On the other hand, my friends whom I visited last weekend are definitely “dog” people. They currently have three — an elderly, neurotic Maltese who was abused by a past owner, a fierce Pekinese, and a puppy they adopted that they are discovering is at least part Pit Bull. I call them Dog 1, Dog 2, and Dog 3 in the order of acquisition — as spelled out above.
While staying with them, I decided that I am quite definitely NOT a dog person. Each managed to annoy me in their own special way.
Dog 1 — the neurotic Maltese — spends nearly every waking moment either following my friend around, or moping for his return. She even sets up camp outside the bathroom when he’s… er… “inspecting the facilities.” One evening , she whined pitifully at my feet while we were sitting on the couch. I picked her up and put her on the couch, and she expressed her gratitude in the traditional dog sense — by licking. I finally had to tell her to “do NOT lick my shorts” — a phrase that had never passed my lips before.
My friend’s 16-year-old neice found that tremendously amusing.
Dog 2 has a few behavioral issues, so he spends most of his time outside. He was allowed in once, when he decided to remind us of just what those issues entail. My hosts got to clean up THAT mess on the dining-room carpet.
Dog 3 is a complete and utter spaz. She LOVES my friend’s laser pointer. She will chase it endlessly around the living room, almost to the point of smacking into and attempting to climb up walls. In fact, the only time she won’t chase it is when it’s on a person or another dog. And she NEVER grows tired of it. If you’re in the living room, she will sit in front of you patiently until you get the damned thing out and let her chase it.
Then, one afternoon, I happened to look over and there I saw Dog 3 thoroughly and methodically licking her… um… there’s no really polite way to say this: her behind. She was rooting around in there like an obsessed proctologist in search of The Lost Suppository. At that point I decided that there was no way in HELL I was gonna let that dog’s tongue EVER get near me.
His extended family has the same fixation with dogs. While over at his sister-in-law’s house, we saw their dog (a Golden Retreiver) walking around with a hunk of 2×4 in her jaws.
“Oh, cute, she wants to play fetch!” my friend’s 16-year-old neice exclaimed.
I noticed that she wasn’t actually heading towards any people. “No, she’s saying ‘screw you all, I’ll build my own damned doghouse.'”
I think I’ll stick with the cat. He may not be as affectionate as a dog, but he’s a hell of a lot tidier and considerably lower maintenance.