Monday, December 13, 2010


This post is going to take the form of a fun little role play scenario. (Not that kind of role play, relax and keep it in your pants.) You decide you want to buy a pet, so you go to the pet store and a nice lady who works there helps you decide what to get.  She also happens to be the most honest person to ever walk the earth.

Option A is adorable. He's a cute little pile of fluff, and as soon as you walk up to his cage, he's so fucking excited to see you that you're afraid he might explode if he's not allowed to jump into your arms. He's got big, happy eyes and when he's looking at you, you know at that moment, you make him happier than he will ever be. The honest pet lady tells you what Option A will be like if you bring him home. He will always be adorable. He will think that every single thing he does is the most unbelievably exciting thing that has ever happened. He will never leave you. Ever. When you come home, whether you have been gone for 5 minutes or 5 months, he will absolutely lose his shit when you pull into the driveway.  He will probably put his paws up on the window, looking outside, trying not to burst before you walk in the door.  And when you walk in, it's over. He will be hysterical with excitement. Every single time you walk in the door, it will be the single happiest moment in his life so far. Without fail. He comes with a tail that moves back and forth whenever he is happy. It will always be moving back and forth. He is loyal. He will stay with you through thick and thin, and always love you no matter what kind of miserable shit you do. When you have a shitty day, he'll know. You'll sit down, and he'll walk over to you, rest his head on your knee and make you feel better. Always. When he finally passes away, you will feel like you've lost a kid, but you'll be forever grateful for the time you spent with him.

Option B is also cute, and fluffy. When you walk over to his cage, he's cool to just kind of kick it in the corner, and look at you as if you are a foreign invader.  Honest pet lady tells you the deal with Option B. In a few months, he won't be that cute anymore.  He won't really take any interest in you, he just kind of does his own thing. If you try to touch him, his back will arch, his hair will stick up, and he will emit an ungodly shriek that may make your ears bleed. If you persist, razor sharp talons will shoot out of his paws and he will hiss at you until you retreat to no less than ten feet away. When you get home, he will not come to the door. He will be in the basement, brooding about being held captive by such an inferior life form and planning your demise. If you let him get outside for even a minute, he will run away and never come back. Why? Because he hates you. He hates you, he hates people, he hates Option A's and Option B's and all other animals. And all other inanimate objects. He hates everything. Never try to pick him up. You will be scarred forever by the talons and he will shoot out of your arms and across the room. He pees and shits in a box that smells like pee and shit. This box makes your house smell like pee and shit. If you have a rough day, he won't have any idea, and if he does, he won't give a flying fuck. When he kicks the bucket, you will miss only the presence of a furry thing in your dwelling. You won't admit it, but your days will be a bit brighter and less stressful.

Ok, role play over. EVERYONE and their mother knows that Option A is a dog, and Option B is a cat. Why? Because cats suck. They do. For all the reasons I have enumerated above. I am a grown ass woman, and last summer I found myself crouching on a kitchen counter in a tiny NYC apartment, with oven mitts on my hands for protection, throwing string cheese at a cat to try and save myself from an untimely death at its hands. This thing took one fucking look at me and pounced. Unless you happen to be close with Michael Vick, that shit just does not happen with dogs. As I type, right at this very moment, my dog has walked over to me and laid down on top of my freezing bare feet. How did he know my feet were cold? Because he's a dog, which automatically means he's fucking awesome. If you want a pet that doesn't give a shit about you, at least get a gerbil or a rabbit or's socially acceptable to keep them in a cage. But if you already have a cat...go ahead and get a cage, I won't tell anyone. Trust me, you'll be happier.


  1. I do not own animals. In fact, I am very allergic to both dogs and cats, but this was fucking hilarious.