I hate to say it, but I think I'm a cat person. 

I mean, not only can I watch "surprised kitten" on youtube on a nonstop, endless video loop, but loldogs leaves me utterly cold.  It's just not that funny imagining what dogs might be thinking, because it's always the same.  I will admit I do think it's funny when people dress their dogs in people clothes, but funny in a sadistic way — the same way a cat might find it funny. 

So, I guess I might as well just come out:  I'm a cat person. 

What?  Am I the last to know?  Again??

I like animals — as I like children — very much in the abstract.  In other words, I like other people's animals, with certain exceptions (no lizards or rodents, fish are purely decorative, and birds must be caged and no larger than a finch).  I like mammals I can relate to, who aren't too aggressive or too aloof, don't beg or whine, hiss or scratch, or, rumors to the contrary aside, stick their snouts in my crotch or hump my leg (that's what humans are for).    

But like children, everything changes once you've got a pet of your own, dunnit?  I'm not exactly a stepparent for Jake's golden retriever, Oscar, but having him around day in and day out, we're sort of family, you could say.  And even though I didn't meet him before moving in, I knew he would be a nice dog — golden retrievers are bred to be — but a bit of a bore. 

Which is probably preferable to live with than other people's dogs that I know that are Jack Russels and miscellaneous terriers, bulldogs and pugs, and various and sundy scruffy little mutts.  I love to visit with them, especially when they've got on their people clothes, but to live with?  Frankly, I'd rather a nice, boring retriever at retirement age who seems mildly depressed (but resigned rather than despondent) when his master is away. 

And yet... I have to be honest, it's a little painful.  Yes, he's happy to see me when I come home.  He wags his tale and scampers off to gather up his chew-toys to show me.  I tell him how pretty he is and how good.  But then we run out of things to say and do, and he goes back to his waiting.  Waiting for his man.

I know what it's like, Oscar.  I know all too well.

For the dog's master, this unwavering devotion is the whole point, but what about the rest of us?  We get the flip-side of a canine's epic loyalty:  this epic sadness when his master is away. You know you're only a substitute. Yes, he acts happy to see you now, but in a minute or two, he's back to waiting — pining, you might even call it — for Master again. 

Cats just seem to have some kind of internal life aside from waiting.  They wait and plot. 

What can I say?  I can relate.