I once heard that if you died in a room with your dog, it would sit by your corpse, like the Greyfriars Bobby (look it up) and starve to death. If the same happened with a cat, apparently the little bastard would be eating you as soon as it was dinner time.
Now people who prefer dogs might say the above shows how loyal dogs are, while those who like cats best would argue that it means that cats show initiative and a will to survive lacking in canines…
Whatever. It doesn’t matter. The whole scenario is hypothetical and therefore means nothing.
Now I have nothing against cats. They can be quite cute and are responsible for some brilliant Youtube videos (my favourites can be found by clicking these words, these ones and this last bit) One even helped me find a bag of… herbs that I’d dropped on the way school one time. No, cats are fine. It’s those among us who keep them that are the problem… Those who call themselves ‘cat people’.
Ever noticed that people who are fond of dogs refer to themselves as ‘dog lovers’? Why is ‘cat lover’ not sufficient as well? And why is it always the most batshit people that consider themselves ‘cat people’?
I trawled my memories and a few websites and found some reasons why ‘cat people’ are good to avoid:
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My pet history is not a long one. The first animal I remember my family keeping were stick insects. They bred like mad, escaped and my old man ended up having to vacuum millions of them off the living room ceiling. Next it was a series of hamsters, a pair of giant African land snails (named after runners, naturally) and the occasional tank of fish, but since the age of about twelve, my home has been an animal-free zone.