As the election draws nearer, I notice people categorizing themselves more and more. Republican, Democrat, Catholic, Lutheran, cat people, dog people…circle only one from each category, please.
I’m not here to talk about Obama or McCain. Or even Palin or Biden. I’m here to talk about how cat people face injustice from the dog people of the world. Even if you don’t like animals, deep down you are still either a cat person or a dog person. And the cat people get the short end of the stick.
On the feline side, the obvious stigma is the dreaded cat lady. I myself have been branded a cat lady at the age of 22, fated to be a spinster with my 88 cats.
Here are the facts: I like cats. I always have. I have a cat now. A kitten, in fact. I pay a lot of attention to her, because she’s a baby and she’s very demanding and, quite frankly, I like her. She sleeps in my bed every night. When I pick her up she purrs. And I have traveled twice with her, once to my hometown and once to Ocean City, Maryland, because she is a baby and I didn’t want to leave her alone.
I do not have a cat shower curtain. Maybe I talk to my kitten like she’s a human sometimes, but I like to think it’s better than blatantly talking to myself. I don’t do little cat-themed needlepoint, or assemble 500-piece cat puzzles. (That’s not to say the 300-piece cat puzzles are out of the question.)
I don’t wear cats on my clothes. I live with a roommate, so I’m not a total recluse, and I’m young, so I still have a chance to get married and settle down with someone if I so choose. So what part of this makes me a cat lady?
My mother is also a very strong cat person. She forms intense bonds with them, much like I do, and essentially fits more of the mold of the crazy cat lady than I do. She knits blankets for them. She feeds them on a silver platter. Literally. She even gave my last cat fluid treatments for her kidney disease 3 times a week.
But she’s married, so she’s in the clear.
Meanwhile, dog people can do no wrong. There isn’t the fabled “dog lady” living down the street. Dog people can plaster their breed of choice on a shirt or mug and barely get a second glance. They let their dogs climb all over them and lick their faces. They rearrange their lives to fit their dogs’ schedules and needs.
For instance, my dad won’t even sit in his favorite recliner if the dog is on it because he doesn’t want to make her move. My parents leave a light on if they go out at night because the dogs are afraid of the dark.
And that’s not to mention the people who travel everywhere with their dogs. The ones who sing with them and not only feed them table scraps, but actually cook extra food for them, or even an additional meal. And maybe keep a place at the table. When I go home, I can’t eat dinner in peace. From the first bite to the last, my mother sits and stares at my plate. I inevitably never finish my meal, which is what she’s waiting for.
The minute I set down my fork, even if it’s just to take a drink, she is a vulture, preying on the dinner she has so graciously cooked for me so that she can give it to the dogs. She takes my remainder and cuts it into small, easy-to-chew pieces for our decade-old Lhasa Apsos, divides it evenly onto two separate plates, and voila, dinner is served.
So what is the difference, honestly, between a cat person and a dog person? We all like animals. And both sides have extremes. I refuse to be unfairly judged and prematurely sentenced to a life as a crazy cat lady when I’ve hardly had the chance to live as a 20-something.
Who knows, maybe that’s where I’ll end up, but for now I’m going to pepper my admittedly feline-heavy life with real human interaction. It ain’t over ‘til the cat lady sings … or a pitbull wears lipstick.
~Valerie Williams
Philadelphia, PA
valerieleewilliams@gmail.com
