If I had to call it, I'd say that I'm a cat person, even though I like dogs well enough. Heck, I even have names picked out in case I acquire any dogs in the future ("Renaissance" and "Hellebore," if you were wondering). Part of having a preference for cats is that I'm inherently lazy. With dogs, you've got to walk them, play with them,throw frisbees to them, take 'em to the park so they can meet other dogs (hopefully dogs attached to scantily-clad co-eds -- always a bonus for the dog owner), and even, gasp, occasionally pet them. In other words, pamper them.
Cats? Not so much.
My first cat was an all-black hellion named Slash. I picked him out of a litter of black cats on my grandmother's farm. The others came up to me and started doing that cat thing where they lean up against you and purr a lot. Slash came up to me and tried to eviscerate me with his very sharp claws. (He was the seventh son of a seventh son, I think, and thus a witch).
At the house I was living in at the time, my roomies and I rarely saw Slash. He'd hide behind the couch, or under the bed. When we did see him, he'd be sprawled out on the hammock, glaring at anyone who dared to come too close, and acting homicidally antisocial toward anyone who dared to think he might want to be petted, walked, or have frisbees thrown to. Somewhere along the way, I think Slash became feral and went back into the wild to lead his people in a revolt against the humans. Nothing came of that, though. Yet.
After a few cat-less years, I picked up a two-year-old Siamese from the pound. When I brought him home, he seemed annoyed at the world (probably because of that whole neutering business). His name was Onjinsen.
Onjinsen was very independent. He would jump up in a lap once or twice a week to be petted; otherwise, he liked to be left alone, happy as long as there was food in his bowl. Problem with Onji was that when he was feeling particularly friendly, he'd bring offerings. He was an indoor/outdoor cat, so the offerings he'd bring included birds, rabbits, and snakes. Sometimes he wouldn't bother to kill the latter, bringing them into the house and then letting them go so he'd have a playtoy for later. Waking up, stretching, and stepping out of bed right onto a suddenly-very-angry reptile? Not the good times.
I had Onji for ten years before he died of cancer, still hunting up until the last few days.
The next cats were a pair, acquired separately while I was living in Mexico. My then-wife and I were walking home one day when we heard a meowing coming from an empty lot. She leaned down, said "Kitty, kitty, kitty" and a black-and-white blob wandered out. Lora picked the blob up and we kept walking. A little while later, I said, "Soooo, we have a cat now?"
Apparently, yes.
A few days later, the door to the house was standing open because, well, it was really, really hot and we didn't have air conditioning. What should wander in through the open door? A tiny Siamese that was just about palm-sized.
Lora pushed the door closed behind the cat. Eventually, I looked up from my book and said, "Soooo, we have two cats now?"
Apparently, yes.
Seamus (the Siamese) and Shylock (the blob) are still happily curling up in potted plants down Mexico way.
A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine decided that it would be a good career move for him to move to St. Louis and live with some roomies who were allergic to cats. This left him needing a home for his. On the spur of the moment -- as I sometimes do in regards to things of life-altering importance -- I offered to take in the soon-to-be-orphaned feline (yes, yes, I know, I'm a saint).
Some hundreds of dollars later, the house was fully outfitted with an automatic feeder, waterer, and litter box. Can't have this new kitty thinking that we're just going to cater to her every whim or anything.
Wait, maybe that's what I'm doing.
Drat it all. Maybe a dog would have been the way to go after all. Then at least I wouldn't have to go find my own frisbees.
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The author and his pets (which also consist of a tribble(tm) and a handful of houseplants) are currently doing just fine.
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[Photo Caption: If cats couldn't lounge, they'd have to do something constructive, like take on Global Finance Reform.]
