My Own Backyard: The Truth About Cats and Dogs

I am not a dog person.

I am neither comfortable with this truth, nor am I one-hundred percent resigned to it.

The "me" that lives in my mind has an adorable, perfectly behaved chocolate colored "doodle" of some kind curled up sweetly at my feet as I write this. She was also free, completely house trained at six weeks, doesn't chew, never gets on the furniture, only needs to go to the bathroom once a day, and she never smells like dog.

See. It totally makes sense why this scenario only exists in my mind.

We've owned dogs in the past. And we're bad at it.

I'm the kind of person who still--even after over nineteen years of parenting--thinks that potty training was one of the top 10 ... 5 ... 3 worst things I've ever had to deal with as a mother.

I did manage to hang in there with it for my four sweet little people who called me "Mommy" and gave me hugs and kisses and told me they'd never grow up and always love me best.

But I cannot hang in there with it for a dog. I just can't. So eventually I give up, send the dog outside to live, and periodically send the children out to put bricks in the holes under the fence where it digs to escape.

And their smell. I just can't do it. When I pick up a pet, I want it to smell good. Every time. Not just within the first 30 seconds of having it groomed.

But despite these things, I still think I should be a dog person. I see people's dogs and I want them. I've convinced myself that if I just find the PERFECT dog, I'll become a dog person.

So I spend a significant amount of time on places like Petfinder and Craigslist and Doodle breeder sites. And I drive Better Half to drink by emailing and texting him links to potential perfect dog candidates all day long.

He's so awesome about it, though. He says we'll discuss it. He lovingly shows me our backyard--beautifully landscaped without an inch of grass anywhere. And the pool. And he reminds me that I think it's gross when people's dogs swim in their pools. And that our pool guy might not find us so wonderful to work for if he has to clean dog hair out of a pool filter all the time. He reminds me that it's not fun to HAVE to be outside with a dog at 6 am, even if the median temperature where we live is 70 degrees. He sweetly reminds me that we spend hours. HOURS. away on weekends for baseball games, swim meets, and the like. He wonders aloud what the cost of boarding an dog would be in SoCal for two weeks when we "vacation" to Kansas. (Probably close to what it cost for he and I to go to London for 7 days a few years ago.) He declares emphatically that if we get a dog, he's not taking care of it.

So this Father's Day, I gave him the best gift ever.

I waved the white flag of surrender. I promised him that I would stay off of Petfinder, Craigslist, and the like, and I would stop asking for a dog. I even wrote this down in his Father's Day card and signed my name to it and everything.

I am not a dog person. There. I said it.

But in the interest of being true to myself...

I AM a cat person.

Cats fit my personality. I admire their independence. It doesn't creep me out to see them curled up on a couch or a bed. I love that you just have to show them where the litter box is and you're done. I love that the SkyMall catalog advertises a system by which you can teach your cat to use your toilet to go to the bathroom. I also think that there are very few things that would be more disgusting than walking in the bathroom and finding cat poo in your toilet, but I still think it's wicked-awesome that you can even teach a cat to use the toilet. Dogs just don't have the necessary skills.

Anyhow... Better Half was just so happy that the Craigslist link that showed up in his email a week ago Saturday wasn't a dog (or a huge wrought-iron chandelier for him to install in the dining room with no directions), that he said "Yes...as long as I never have to scoop the litter box." to her:

Of course this kitty had a catch.

I had to pay someone a $20 "re-homing fee" for her. I'm certain that my Kansas friends are laughing and groaning as they read this. Specifically my Kansas friend who has a litter or two of kittens every year at her house that she gives away For. FREE.

And it gets better. It's not like I paid someone twenty bucks because some mama kitty chose to have her babies on her owner's $250 leather coat and that poor lady needs some cash for the dry-cleaner's. Or because she had to be bottle-fed, or because she's already had her her first set of shots, is de-wormed, and her current owners just want to recoup a little bit of the cash they put into her.. Nope. Apparently she was a stray who followed someone home. And that person thought she'd make an easy $20--SoCal-style. With a "re-homing" fee.

I don't care. Too much. She's darling. And I love her.

I don't have to walk her at 6am.

When I bury my nose in her fur she smells delicious.

She "devours" books.