I always considered myself to be a ‘dog person.’
My first pet was a beautiful black lab, a true specimen of loyalty and obedience. As I grew up, he grew old, eventually surrendering to a quick battle with cancer.
Next to join our family was a sweet, clumsy Weimaraner who was later joined by a sister.
As a family, we enjoyed big dogs. Dogs that hiked and wrestled and snuggled. And because of the presence of our big, beautiful dogs, cats were conspicuously missing from our lives—neighborhood cats tended to avoid our yard (as a health precaution, I’m sure).
Fast-forward a handful of years and I have my own home with my own family. Part of me assumed that because I had big dogs, my children would have big dogs too. I imagined laying around with a big, smelly beast when my other big, smelly beast was on the road. I saw us hiking in the woods together, going for jogs, learning tricks and taking long drives.
Alas, we are a dog-free household. Even more shocking: we have a cat.
Gordon is our accidental, was-supposed-to-be-here cat. I discovered him abandoned in an airport parking garage and brought him to the house ‘just until we find him a home.’ Famous last words, right?
Our cat happens to have many dog-like qualities. He has an affinity for water and hangs with me while I do the dishes, he’s playful, he follows me around, he greets the family at the door when we return home.
In short, he’s my ideal in the realm of feline fellows.
But there are some extremely un-dog (read: un-zen) like qualities that include, but are not limited to: random, guerrilla-style attacks; rude, wake-up-right-now-I-need-to-eat morning rituals; the use of my laptop keyboard as a place to ponder life—only while I work, of course; ‘grooming’ my hair by gripping my head and chewing; grooming his nether regions loudly and aggressively in the middle of the room while I wind down for the night.
You know…cat stuff.
Cats are jerks. Awesome jerks, yes. But jerks, nonetheless.
If more evidence is required, enjoy the following footage of more jerks doing jerky things.
Jerks don’t care about your stuff:
Jerks are bed-stealers:
Jerks are also ‘you shall not pass-ers’:
Did you know that jerks ruin Christmas? Because they do:
And card towers:
Note: no jerky cats were harmed physically or emotionally in the writing of this post. In fact, my favorite jerk is snoring next to me as I type.
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Editor: Bryonie Wise
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