/ miscellany:

“no pleasure endures unseasoned by variety”—Publilius Syrus

Rat Race: Cats 2, Dogs 1. Cats Win.

Oliver the Cat

I know there’s a whole roost of folks that are “not cat people,” or say that they’re “more of a dog person” or, at their most vulgar extreme “hate cats,” (you in particular, can suck it).

Great. Fine. I get it. Dogs are cool. They’re funny and loyal and goofy and fun outdoors. If I owned a British bulldog, I would have little need for therapy or anti-depressants. Just looking at that ridiculous face would lift the spirit. So, dog people, dont’ say I never loved you, or them. But:

Here at maunet (and our extended fold of writerly pet friends) we are most definitely cat folk. They’re handsome, independent, quirky and self-sufficient. You don’t have to get up at 6AM in the middle of a Brooklyn blizzard to walk them and–ahem–pick up their steaming little piles of poop for them. I hate getting up early. And I most definitely hate picking up other mammal’s poop.

And what about water? A wet dog smells god-awful and most of the time they can’t keep calm unless you feed him with calming treats for dogs. A wet cat? Well, first off, they have enough sense to not get wet. And if some unfortunate incident befalls them and they end up wet, they don’t leave your hands smelling like…like… hell i don’t know what like–here my writerly metaphors are stumped by that nasty wet-dog smell.

I could go on and on. But better to have Robert DeNiro’s
intimidating authority put to rest this age-old argument:

Loss, inevitable
Two years ago, my beloved Benjamin developed liver cancer. I spent one long year and more money than I could afford keeping him comfortable enough to enjoy, relatively speaking, one more quality year before finally letting him go. Now our dear Sir Knight and the Lady Kate are going through the same thing. One half of the charming duo CosmoThe Drake has taken quite ill and may not make it through the winter. And as sad an ordeal as this is, it has at times been leavened by humor.

A recent visit to the vet yielded this conversation:

Kate: He seems to have some kind of growth near his anus.
Vet (lifting Cosmo’s tail): That’s his penis.
Knight:penis anus.
Vet: What?

Love the Drake. Love the Cosmo. Love the cats. Long live the cats…

  1. Monday 03.01.2010 | 8:33 EDT

    kph says:

    I prefer emotionally shallow animals. Point taken about the landmines that cover our sidewalks, however.

  2. Saturday 02.27.2010 | 3:21 EDT

    crispo says:

    Yes, I will say I too am a cat person. A few weeks ago, upon returning from a visit to the in-laws, we found the dog had vomited in three different rooms and on two different rugs. After being in the car with a pre-teen and a toddler for 7 hours, my lovely wife, seeing the dog’s work , said “I’m not really a dog person.” Mind you, she is the one who brought the dog into the relationship, but oh well. She also said that the dog is probably more than half-way through her life, so “it won’t be that much longer.” Let’s hope that the dog doesn’t live as long as the matron Mina, who is 17+ years old!


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