Are you a dog person or a cat person? Supposedly it says something about you. Are you outgoing? Active? Happy go lucky? Introspective? Or more specifically – “You have how many cats? Erm, gotta go, I think I have a dentist appointment.”
Actually, I love cats. And dogs. I have one of each, to be exact. Do they get along? Like peanut butter and jelly. Bacon and eggs. Chips and salsa. (Can you tell it’s lunchtime?) Different, but complementary. Oh, it wasn’t always so – the complementary, I mean.
Shortly after my 2nd was born, (Sir Prince-A-Lot) we had to put down our beloved Dalmatian, Rush. Overworked and underslept, I vowed to be animal-free for a period of time. At least until Super Diaper Baby was old enough to wipe his own behind. Enter in my first born son, (Prince #1), with “Margaret”, a white and orange kitten he brought home from a party down the street. Probably the most interesting “goody bag” ever.
Margaret er, Sullivan
Of course, there is nothing cuter than a kitten, and Margaret had me at hello. I am also a sucker for females. Wait, hold that thought – I am married. To my husband. What I mean to say is, I prefer female cats. And dogs. With some exception, they just seem to be sweeter, snugglier, and less prone to take a whiz in inappropriate places. (Not much different from the human male, I guess). So, Margaret was in. Except. Margaret turned out not to be Margaret after all. She – was a he. Dammit! No I was still the only female in a house full of testosterone! Too late – Prince #1 was in love. So Margaret became Sullivan, who stayed sweet until puberty, when he became moody, cantankerous, and a bit aggressive – in spite of a good neutering. You’d be cranky too if they cut your nuts off. So, we gave Mr. Grumpy his space for about 4 years – then decided to liven up his little world of kitty dominance. We got a dog.
Oh, and make no mistake. This one was a female. I made triple dog sure of it at the humane society. A mutt with a red coat the color of – cinnamon? Paprika? Nutmeg! So, Nutmeg she became. And my, wasn’t that white and orange furry thing fun for a puppy to chase up the stairs! Sullivan didn’t come back down for 9 months. Literally. He skulked around the 2nd floor, ever alert for the new interloper. If I hadn’t brought his food bowl to the upstairs office he would have starved to death. What happened after 9 months? Not sure exactly, but Kitty Boy decided enough was enough, and he descended the stairs like the little emperor we knew and loved. He gave the dog a couple of cuffs to the head, and assumed his position on the top of the couch as if he’d been there yesterday. And miracle of miracles, the two fell in love, or at least in like. On top of that, Mr. Prickly Pants became genial, good humored (mostly) and a lap sitter. Go figure. The truth about cats ‘n dogs is that they bring equal, if different, amounts of joy to their owners, (um, subjects). I, for one, will continue to love them both.