Friday, February 8, 2013

Time For A Trade-In??

I think I need to get a cat.

Cats are quieter and have acceptable social skills. They don't jump around your ankles and bark incessantly for attention when you're trying to talk to your neighbor or to the girl scouts who've come to the door to sell their cookies (two evenings in a row, we're trying to carry on a conversation and Joe is bouncing around our feet, barking constantly, refusing to acknowledge that we've said "No!" about a dozen times).

Cats don't have abandonment issues and whine pitifully all the way home after dropping off their "favorite person" at the auto repair shop (this morning at 7:30, from the moment Tom got out of the car until I pulled into our garage almost 15 minutes later and lifted him from his bed and out of the car, Joe whined like he'd just seen his best friend walk out the door forever).

Cats are better at self-grooming and, therefore, don't stink. They don't acquire an odiferous aura that almost makes your eyes water and requires bathing every other week to merely tolerate their presence (I gave him a bath, what, 2 weeks ago? And he already stinks. Another bath tomorrow).

Cats don't make loud slurping and chewing noises while cleaning their private parts (good lord!).

Cats discreetly use their own private bathroom facilities. They don't insist on your presence, encouragement or begging six times in an hour and a half before you go to bed (every night, starting around 8:30, the ritual begins, every 15 minutes or so until it's time for us to go to bed, but by then he's sound asleep and snoring and nearly impossible to wake up for his last call before bed).

The only negative thing about owning a cat is the little furry, bloody, dead (hopefully) "gift" brought home and dropped at your feet on the kitchen floor.

Gifts from a dog are the occasional flea that makes the leap from his back to your leg, or the month-old bone and pieces of kibble strewn on the bottom of the washer because they were buried in the recesses of his bed before laundering.

Lucky for Joe, he sleeps about 18 hours a day and I have some quiet time to take some deep breaths and reconsider giving him free-agent status.


altadenahiker said...

Remember Gaylord, the life-sized plastic Basset Hound that could walk around the room if you chose to feed him batteries? I'm leaning in his direction. No vet bills.

Terri said...

And no poop patrol or shedding!