DISCLAIMER: I know there are exceptions to every rule. Please preface each of my reasons with a silent, mental “In many cases in the Fink’s experience…” In other words, I do not hate your cat. It ain’t personal. [And Chevy, the Famous American Cat, always gets a pass. I’ve met Cocoa from a distance, and she passes muster, too.] I know that dogs have their “issues” as well, so, yeah.
Here, in as honest and fair a manner as I can convey, are the reasons I do not like cats.
- They like to dig their claws into furniture, carpets, drapes, walls, and you. I know it’s supposed to be an important part of a cat’s happy life (scratching on surfaces to groom its claws, and climbing up things to feed its arboreal nature), but it doesn’t make me happy. If I want to be a pin cushion, I’ll get the needles out of my sewing kit and have at it. Ever try to pull a cat off your shoulder when it has its talons planted a quarter inch deep into your flesh? Hey, that’s fun! I’ll have one of those! Even if the cat is declawed, that fth, fth, fth motion it makes with its feet (phantom clawing) is a bit creepish to me.
- If I read or hear one more time that “my cat allows me to live in his house, tee hee!” I am going to bash heads. Widely known in the Fink house: ain’t nobody Mama’s boss. I adore Rousseau and spoil him rotten with love, but he will by crackie mind me, and come when he’s called. And if I’m brushing his hair or gently combing out a mat or bathing him or anything else he doesn’t particularly enjoy, he will sit still and endure it without hissing, scratching, biting or running away.
- The indifferent prissiness is not cute. If I wanted a pet that couldn’t care less about me, I’d get a…well…a cat.
- Pets need to potty outside. Ew. And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that there is a leash law in my city to prevent dogs from running loose, and a scooper law forbidding them to poop in people’s yards, but the law does not apply to cats. They’re flippin’ Elsa, born free, and they can roam wherever they like. Fine. Then I should be able to get a rifle and shoot them at will when they use my yard like a new container of Fresh Step, or when they attempt to claw the cover off my grandsons’ sandbox. Where are the fines for cat owners? (I know this isn’t a “cat” issue, but a human one. Still.)
- I just prefer a dog’s nature. Rousseau is a creature of unconditional love. He wants nothing more than to please us, and that makes us love him all the more. He doesn’t need “alone time,” and he’s never unpredictable or aloof or snotty. He always wants to be petted and fussed over. I can reach down to pet him a hundred thousand times, and never once end up scratched or bleeding.
…which is why I will never own a cat, although I certainly do not begrudge my family and friends from owning one. Vive la difference!