So my blog challenge from Robyn this week was to re-publish something from long, long ago. I had an article I’d written for a football magazine, which although I’m amazed at how good it is (I can barely remember writing it!) it’s way too long to publish here. And I don’t have time to edit. So instead I’m going to treat you to some of my favourite photos that I’ve taken over the past couple of years. That’s kinda keeping to topic… ish…
Spot and a ladybird
Frogs in the pond
USS Midway, San Diego
Stratosphere Hotel, Las Vegas
Thin beam of light… or laser beam to take out the unbelievers?
As I type, there is an alluring rumble from under my desk. Nope, I’m not hungry, it’s my ginger cat (Spot) signalling he wants a stroke. And I will contort myself to fuss him, even though he sits just out of reach, and after about 32 seconds (or a length of time of his choosing) he will get up and bugger off to the conservatory to ignore me until dinner time. This is normal cat/owner behavior…
So, yes, I am here to state the case that cats are most definitely better than dogs*. Desperate for a subject to blog about, I blurted “cats v dogs” as a challenge to Robyn (see the Dog side of the argument on Robyn’s blog). This is actually really hard for me (see * below…) but as currently I am owned by cats, here goes…
We had cats (and dogs) in the house when I was a kid, and they made me want to be a vet (I also wanted to marry Simon le Bon… I’m still waiting for him to ditch Yasmin and gimme a call) just so I could help cats. Not house cats. No, I wanted to help lions and tigers and cheetahs and jaguars. And it was all because I’d seen big cats on nature programmes and those big cats were exactly the same as the little cats in my house. Just… bigger. Wow! I was hooked.
When I left home and had three jobs to pay my mortgage, it became apparent I definitely couldn’t have a dog. They need walking and are needy and totally dependent. Whereas cats allow you to adopt them, fuss them when they want but they can pretty much get on with life without much looking after. Well obviously some looking after is required, but you get the gist. So I got a cat. Um, I actually got two kittens because they were just so cute and furry…
Skip forward to present day… I’ve loved and lost Jaffa and Phoebe, those cute, mental, moody, bonkers, affectionate, lazy, fur-shedding moggies and have another two. Nessie and Spot – just as cute, mental, moody… (you get the picture) yet TOTALLY DIFFERENT to the other two. I am constantly amazed and delighted at their wildly different personalities and behaviors.
Spot should have been called Hulk (“Smash”) and ruins all notions that cats are clever, stealthy or graceful. He would fall off a rug if it wasn’t on the floor. Nessie is delicate, quiet and looks at her brother with absolute disdain. (If I could get her librarian glasses to peer over, I would.) However, bring a bit of Canadian catnip in the house and she bounces off the walls for hours. They bring me comfort and cuddles, they arse around the house and sleep in the best spots, refuse to go out and get jobs, but I wouldn’t be without them.
Cats. They own me.
(Of course you can chase your own tail, fall off a step and get away with it by rolling over and being cute)
* please note, I am owned by cats but love dogs just as much. However, my overlord cats won’t allow me to have a “privy-carpet smelling fleabag” in the house…