Since 2004, Portland's Only Bar Trivia That Matters.
In my world, one of the most damning indictments of a person's character is the hatred of cats. Basically, the second someone expresses this type of disgust, I'm done with them forever. I am completely serious. I used to argue with them, but now I just walk away and vent to a friend until I can calm down, and then quietly tolerate them for as long as is necessary. It's seriously even way worse than when people say they hate Sonic Youth. These folks are almost always drooling dog worshipers, and will fall to their knees in awe of any canine, no matter how annoying or sycophantic it may be.
We cat lovers go about in respect of these dog folk, and would never dream of expressing the kind of idiotic hatred that some of them, for some reason, just can't wait to spew.
The dignity and grace of the feline is lost on these dipshits - who apparently only appreciate animals that demonstrate complete subservience.
I grew up with a German Shepherd and a poodle that I loved dearly, and I still love some dogs to this day. But I have to admit; the uber-eager-to-please, spazzy types of canines contrast with my character very sharply. When I walk into a house and some dog is all over me, freaking out with their unconditional love, I'm counting the seconds until I can get the fuck out of there. It's the most annoying thing imaginable, yet it is assumed by every dog owner that I will find it endearing. Sorry, but this man's best friends do not beg for his constant approval.
"I love you I love you I love you! Please love me, pleeease love me!!" What if I was a burglar or rapist? You know what's endearing to me? Being a good judge of character. My dogs would go apeshit when I got home, but they weren't about to supplicate themselves to just any asshole who crossed our threshold.
That's one of the many things I love about cats: you kinda have to try to get their trust and love. You know - like with human beings.
The thing is, these ailurophobes self-perpetuate their own delusions. By being total dicks to cats (or at least ignoring them completely), they constantly reconfirm their belief that any animal that has a streak of independence isn't worth bothering with. Yes, cats CAN take care of themselves - but that doesn't mean they necessarily want to.
You know what's really amazing? The purr. I worship at the altar of science, but science hasn't ever come anywhere close to explaining purring. And you know what else science will never explain?
Love. And I believe that a feline's purr is the starkest physiological expression of love on the planet.
There is this scene I've witnessed many times that is so priceless. A dog runs into a house, completely out of its mind with eagerness and energy, wagging and flapping and just bouncing off the walls. Everyone in the room is fixated on it, and oh-ing and aw-ing, and showering the owner with praise, and making inquiries about the age, breed, and God knows what else. Over on the windowsill or chair back is a cat that nobody notices. It darted up there quietly when the chaos started, and is perched, front paws together, its eyes calmly following the dog as it covers every inch of the room a thousand times over. And I swear I can almost hear it thinking "Are you fucking serious, dude? Get it together, already."
Because I'm thinking it, too.
Oh - one other thing I need to say specifically: I do not give a SHIT about your pit bull, and I never will! God, pit bull owners are the worst. For many of them, it seems their dog is the only fucking thing they can talk or think about. I think it's a defensive reaction to the horrible, unscientific maligning of that breed in various media and municipalities - which I can totally understand. But Jesus, is it ever annoying.
I guess that's enough. I have other points, but I don't wanna come off as the anti-canine counterpart to the cat haters I'm condemning. My next-door neighbor has a dog that is so sweet. Even Mo likes him. Mo is my cat. He's black. He's laying between my legs because I couldn't let him under the covers, because I'm typing on my computer. When I came home last night, he greeted me halfway down the block because he knows the sound of my engine, and he ran circles around me up the stairs. And he didn't even want any tuna (cats like tuna), but only to lie on his back and have me rub his belly and pick some burs out of his fur.
Anyway, if you feel the need to tell me cats aren't real companions, just remember I won't care if you live or die, or take anything you say seriously, ever again. And if, on the next 4th of July, one goddamn person tells me my illegal fireworks are traumatizing their dog, the next bottle rocket I launch will be directly into their butthole.