It is a foregone conclusion that we are, by design, either a dog person or a cat person. I knew that I was a dog person from childhood, when Enid Blyton gave me the Famous Five and Timothy the dog. How I longed for my own Timmy: a loyal companion, a best friend, and most importantly, somebody to sleep on my feet at the end of my bed. I never, ever, saw myself as a cat lady. In my mind, they were batty old women who lived alone with only cats for friends.
My first dog
We did have a dog when we were kids, his name was Scamp. I don’t remember much about him, I certainly don’t remember him sleeping on my feet. He didn’t last long so that’s probably why. Our home was already chaotic with three young kids, and Scamp got the memo. He was boisterous and loud and took to marking his territory by urinating up my baby sister’s back every time she was sat on the ground.
The final straw came when he jumped through the patio door trying to attack the dustbin men. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the door been open. Straight through the glass he went, tearing the underside of his stomach in the process. I wish I could remember the look on those bin men’s faces.
Anyway, that was it for Scamp, in our family at least. I remember crying as I sat by the front window watching my dad take him away. I begged for another dog but the answer was always “when you have your own house, you can get a dog.”
Slinky and Barny
So that’s what I did. As soon as my husband and I moved in together, we bough a miniature Dachshund. We named him Slinky after the Toy Story character. For 11 years, Slinky was our baby. He slept in our bed (but not on my feet), he came everywhere with us and we carried him in a special bag when his little legs got tired. Slinky died 18-months after my daughter was born and we agreed that having a toddler was enough for us for the time being.
A couple of years later, we decided that it was time to get another dog. My daughter is an only child and we thought it would be good company for her. Maybe it would even sleep on her feet? Barny is a Jack Russell crossed with a Pug (a Jug) . Where as Slinky was a proper lap dog, Barny needs to get out twice a day, he’ll chase a ball and he’ll walk forever. He was a good decision; he’s great company for G and yes, he does sleep on her bed (but not on her feet, turns out, that’s not so comfortable).
Along came Emma
Then G started asking for a cat. Now we are very much a 1 kid, 1 pet household and neither my husband nor I are cat people and so the answer was a definite no. She didn’t give up easily. We sat through regular presentations, she begged, she bargained. Still it was a no but it was getting more difficult.
I caved first. After years of her asking, I just couldn’t justify saying no any longer. G loves animals so much and the more the merrier, right.? Then a friend’s cat had kittens and fate had dealt its hand.
So along came Emma. She and G didn’t leave each others sides for weeks and I didn’t get a look in. But when G returned to school after the holidays, Emma was left home alone with me and I fell in love. It helps that she’s super cute, but I realised that cats are much better suited to my personality.
Cats vs Dogs
I adore Barny but with him, it’s like having a toddler; he’s just so needy. He follows me everywhere: to the bathroom, when I’m cooking, up and down the stairs. He’s constantly on edge waiting for me to sit down. As soon as I do, he’s up and in my lap, standing on my groin every time in his haste.
I lie a blanket out for him when I’m doing yoga, he comes in the car on the school run and he looks at me with big sad eyes if I go out without him. I’m constantly tripping over him to the point that I’m sure that he’s going to be the death of me. And he’s loud. I know it’s his job, but does he have to throw himself at the front door every time somebody knocks.
If I’m honest, I don’t enjoy walking him either. I like to keep a good pace and have time to think but he stops, sniffs and urinates every two seconds. I need my own space, time to myself and dogs are not conducive to that. And I know that dogs are more loyal but that just feels like pressure to me.
I’m a cat lady now
Emma, on the other hand, is completely self-sufficient. She doesn’t seem to need anything from me, apart from food. And when she meows at the treat cupboard, she’s too cute to be annoying. She’s clean, she walks herself and she makes it very clear that she only wants to be touched on her terms. So when she collapses on my chest in the morning purring like a motorbike, I’m the one who is grateful for the attention. There’s no guilt with her, she couldn’t care less if we go out, in fact, she probably wouldn’t even notice.
Of course I love Barny and I wouldn’t be without him. But, I’ve come to the conclusion that for me, the future is feline. I am officially a cat lady. Now, being a batty old woman who lives alone with her cats sounds quite appealing. If only I could train Emma to sleep on my feet.
