Something I Don’t Miss
In the middle of cleaning house today, I ran across a dog pee stain from who knows when. We haven’t had a dog since finding a nice old lady who was glad to receive Snuffy, the miniature AKC-registered dachshund VH gave me as a Valentine’s present last year and then wouldn’t take back to the store.
I hated that dog. Yes, hate is a strong word and yet it’s still not quite strong enough to convey my feelings toward an animal who ate three of my best pairs of shoes, clawed the stuffing out of my favorite chair, crapped all over the house moments after coming inside from a walk and searched out hidden spots upon which to take a leak.
I tried everything to housebreak that dog. We went through a number of dog crates hoping to find one small enough that the runty little thing couldn’t spare a corner in which to squirt out more pee than a dog her size should’ve been able to manufacture in two hours. Even with the tiniest crate — and hourly walks, too, I might add — she’d wait until bedtime then let loose in a corner, later rolling in it to the point where she required daily baths.
I’m not a dog person. I’ve come to accept that fact. Oh, I tried to be one, I really did. I’d buy Snuffy all sorts of toys to divert her from my shoes and my furniture. I took her for long strolls in the park, played with her in our backyard, even toted her along in a large shoulder bag wherever I went. Always, I hoped that at some point we’d share that delightful human-dog bond glorified in the movies.
But the movies, they lie. I’m certain of it. I don’t think anyone is really a dog person; they’re just anti-cat.
Fortunately, I now have a cat that thinks it’s a dog. Pippin follows me everywhere, comes when I call him, rarely strays more than two feet from my side and loves nothing more than burying his cold, wet nose in my armpit the instant I fall asleep. Best yet: he uses a litter box.
Pippin turns one year old next month. From what I can tell, now that he’s taught me to sit when he wants to be petted, I think he’s going to keep me. I’m well-trained, I tell ya.
Even so, I know that wasn’t my pee on the carpet this morning.
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*never tease someone who is dieting* *never tease someone who is dieting* *never tease...
We had a dog like that once. It was a schnauzer mix. We ended up putting cardboard boxes in its crate to make it as TINY as possible. It finally worked but then when we’d take him out he’d decide to play keep away.
Found him a new home fast. I just don’t have patience for it.
Nor do I. It was too much like having another child, but one I knew from the get-go would never hold a job or clean up after itself.
meh. Cats are just moody jewelry with fur.
Dogs, real dogs, are better than most people.
How could you?! This recent cat-loving, dog-hating disclosure disturbs me deeply.
Dogs have souls. Cats would eat you if you died and there was no one around to stop them.
LOVE IT, Mad William!
Kate, if an animal ate even one pair of my shoes, that would be the end of it. Sounds like you got a bum deal on the Daschund. I know they are generally stubborn characters, but yours sounded worse than most.
Yep and they are the best drill-instructors when it comes to train their owners.
Oh, I have to leave, my cat just rang her little golden bell …
Moody jewelry with fur. Love it!
That definitely describes my second cat, Butch, to a tee. But Pippin truly does act more like a dog than a cat. He’s also instructed me to ask if anyone wants a cat named Butch.
All of our cats act like dogs. So does our dog. And thankfully, none of them pee in the house or chew up our stuff. I’d have gotten rid of Rowdi immediately for that — the great thing about adopting adult dogs is that you can find ones that come fully housebroken and somewhat obedient.
Our cats were ten times more loyal than any dog we ever adopted. More trainable, too. They came when called, listened when you told them ‘no’ … the only reason we had to get rid of them was a sudden severe allergy attack after our last child. When a person can’t get oxygen, they gotta go
We have both now…I’ll take my dog over my cat any day of the week…although the dog is downstairs when I get home late at night and I close the door so the cat can get some “pet me nowwwww” time without the dog chasing it all over the place.
Cats don’t require walks in the snow/rain/cold at painfully early hours of the day. Enough said.
I also can’t remember ever having a cat try to hump my leg or sniff my crotch. But perhaps dog lovers consider these “benefits”?
The problem is that the dog came from a petstore! Those are puppy mill puppies, they are forced to live in crates and learn to pee and poop in the crate, overcoming their natural instinct to do that somewhere out of their den. Never get a dog from a pet store! Because potty problems are the least of your problems!
Actually, the dog came from a woman who breeds, raises and trains dogs on her ranch.
But thanks for reminding us all how foolish it is to jump to conclusions.