Thursday, December 20, 2007

"No going twosies in the house!"

Ah, the holidays. I'm a mess per usual. I've only bought one thing for Christmas (an etching for my mother) and I'm quickly running out of time at a rate that seems to be matching my dwindling bank account. I have a massive pile of laundry to do and my parents are arriving in two days to stay with me briefly before whisking me off to Cow Country, Maryland. But since it's looking increasingly like Ms. K and I will be forgoing Vermont for alternate plans, at least I don't have to figure out who's going to feed my cats while I'm gone. Instead we can hang in The Brooklyn, lay in my bed together with cups of coffee, and talk about Stuff.

One of our topics of conversation revolves around the fact that I'm a cat person (but not this kind) and she's a dog person. I have two cats that constantly leave me covered in white fur and various furniture shredded; Ms. K has a golden retriever who is apparently "devastatingly handsome."

"So how long do cats live?" Ms. K asked innocently.

"Oh I don't know. Fifteen years? Sometimes 20. I once had a professor in college who had a cat who was older than me at the time."

I got a wide eye stare of incredulity. "Can't you just teach them to be dogs instead of cats?"

It was my turn to stare at her incredulously.

"Just teach them to bark," she continued, "walk them outside instead of using the cat box, feed them on schedules, and give them baths. None of this thing where they lick themselves."

"Have you ever tried giving a bath to a cat??!"

Clearly not.

What this highlights is that there are clearly some differences in our personalities, differences that can be overcome, but somebody is going to have to realize that cats + water = not good.

Instead we agreed that my cats are transitioning to dogs, but will remain pre-op. These are the compromises one makes for love.

3 comments:

ms. write again soon said...

What I find most amusing about this post is that Mr. Pilot has, on occasion, half-jokingly referred to himself as "devastatingly handsome". Now that I know the term can also be applied to golden retrievers, I am more likely to nod agreeably at such pronouncements.

Ms. Avarice said...

I'm a dog person too. Someone left a cat in my care for a month. Bad idea. About five days into the ordeal I realized I didn't know where the litter box was. I have walked that cat, and I have heard cats bark before. Bathing? Fat chance. I will not be having that experience ever again!

Terroni said...

I have successfully bathed a smelly cat, twice.

It is a test of your bravery and speed. (And, it's best if you also know how to swim.)