You Can't Kid A Cat

Kiss-up Dogs

I like cats all right, but I don't have much affection for them and it's hard to believe that they have any for me. Of course, nothing in the world is as transparently, needfully, wildly affectionate or as steadfast as a dog, even if they are sloppy. No cat, and not many of the people you know—no, not even your mother or your children—are going to be as glad to see you when you come home as a dog will be.

As comedian George Carlin pointed out, a dog is so stupid that he's wildly glad to see you again 2 minutes after you left, when you're only coming back for a moment because you forgot your car keys.

The Cat's Ass

Dogs are indiscriminate and unremitting in their love; they don't throw fits and hold grudges against you (a great relief in any relationship!). I guess cats don't hold many grudges, either, but neither do they ever hold me in any high regard. My own opinion is that cats don't hold anyone in very high regard, but cat owners will argue that to the ends of the earth, I guess. I can think of many a cat I've known that was beautiful or cute, but not many that were recognizably fond of me or glad to see me. The "kitty-cat's asshole in the face" is NOT a friendly act—I'm sorry, cat-lovers, I don't buy it!

Dogs Can Be, Cats Can't

Dogs will practically line up to be nice to you. You can kid a dog along and get along, but you can't kid a cat. A cat either likes you or doesn't, finds you entertaining at the moment or not. A cat despises you if you're not cool. Sounds like a beatnik. And that's it. At least, that's it for those of us who don't speak "Catonese." Cats are so different from me or from dogs that if I didn't know better, I'd say that they came from another planet. They speak another language—one completely different from my own.

Many humans are cat people—I'm aware of that, of course. Oddly, most of my friends are. I always wonder why it never bothers some of my friends that cats sink their claws in us humans as far as possible? Dammit, that hurts!

Bozos

I remember how in the Eighties I had a large collection of cacti, hand-raised from seed, something of which I was so stupidly proud that getting stabbed and stuck by the sharp cacti spines seldom bothered me, never upset me. Some were only as hurtful as small pointy sticks, but others were like beveled steel awls or slightly used razor blades. Recalling it now, that willingness to suffer for my beloved "living" hobby seems as crazy to me as it does to anyone else. Maybe cat people are like that about cats. One way or another, I guess we're all Bozos on this bus.

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