With a pun clearly intended, one of my biggest pet peeves in life is the asinine idea that dogs are somehow superior to cats. Now I know dogs are loveable fucks, and I’m a fan—though not an avid one—of them in general, but they are infinitely inferior to cats in every conceivable way.
The first objection most who disagree immediately counter with is something artfully stated like: “Cats are pussies.” Oh word? Here’s the obvious atomic bomb that decimates such a foolish argument: tigers.
Tigers are six-hundred pounds and can run over 40 mph. They can leap thirty fuckin feet, not to mention swim, climb trees, and see in the dark. They have the strength to shatter a bull’s skull or break a bear’s back with one swipe of their massive paws—which come equipped with five five-inch razor sharp retractable claws. So tell Fido he can go fuck himself.
I have a friend whose neighbors have two of the biggest damn dogs I’ve ever seen—and since I’m an expert on dog breeds I happen to know they’re a Scooby Doo and a Beethoven—and they brazenly let them leashlessly roam the yard like two Velociraptors. I’ll never forget the first time I was introduced to this lunacy, and after pulling in the driveway, the second my feet hit pavement and I saw those two goliaths making a bee-line in my direction, my first instinct was to scramble back into my driver’s seat and floor it. I had visions of both those Hell Hounds hanging onto my bumper like T-1000 as I barreled through traffic.
But instead they just barked a bit and stopped about twenty feet shy of my shivering, urine-soaked form.
Imagine if two cats of equivalent size—say two Mountain Lions—were roaming the neighborhood instead. Not only would I have been ripped to shreds in milliseconds, but you’d have to call the fuckin National Guard to rescue the entire town. Dogs act badass around house cats because of the enormous size difference, but any equally-sized cat would—literally—beat the dogshit out of any canine. Cats are so supremely lethal that they’re only controllable as pets up to about twenty pounds before they become life-threatening to their owners. As I recall, even Clifford the Big Red Dog only committed murder accidentally, when he tragically crushed Emily Elizabeth to death with a giant shit. Not sure why they included that grim installment in the beloved children’s series though…
Irregardless, people just love dogs because people are stupid and lazy. Dogs are the easiest thing to befriend on earth. It requires zero effort to gain their bizarrely undying loyalty and affection. You could punch a dog in the face and it will be grinning at you idiotically thirty seconds later. Wack a cat in the ass just one time and the fuckin thing will hiss at you on sight for the rest of its life.
One argument you always hear from the pro-dog folks is the whole “watch-dog” aspect, as though a trusty hound’s ability to roam its owner’s perimeter at night is invaluable. Who am I, Daniel Boone? It’s the 21st Century, have you ever heard of an alarm? At least they can be turned off.
And dogs are about as annoying as any animal to ever walk the planet. What other creature has the audacity and tactlessness to jam their nose into your crotch and asshole every five goddamn minutes? Really? You just sniffed my balls ten seconds ago, what the fuck additional information are you getting out of this?
Dogs are constantly and never-endingly alternating between humping, barking, biting, pissing, fighting, licking, puking, shitting, sniffing and generally just making nuisances out of themselves. Cats, by contrast, have a refreshing air of dignity.
But there’s nothing dignified about being the Toilet Police for a dog. Every two minutes these foul beasts seem to have to shit or piss, and who has to chaperone them around like an asshole? Your dumb ass. And then you’re really in for a treat because you have two magnificent options when your dog inevitably drops steaming piles of excrement all over the place. You can either A. In a strange twist of irony act like a piece of shit yourself by ignoring it like most sane people or B. Joyfully scoop it up off of the ground with your bare hands and eat it. Or whatever the proper disposal etiquette is. The point being that cats shit and piss in a goddamn box in the basement. Much easier.
And as anyone who has had the misfortune of carrying a spill-able item in their vicinity knows, the clumsiness and stupidity of a dog knows no bounds. Can they even pass through a fuckin room without bumping into some shit or knocking some shit over? Imagine the galaxy of shattered bong shards they have been responsible for alone. Meanwhile sayings like “cat-like reflexes/speed/agility,” “quick as a cat,” or “playing cat-and-mouse” all refer to the unquestionable grace and startling athleticism of felines.
The problem with cats is that so many cat owners are ten pounds of douche in a five-pound bag. Their unrelenting fagginess is certainly overwhelming at times, but don’t allow that to tarnish the reputation of the animals themselves. Dogs have aggravatingly worshipped humans for thirty-thousand years. Instead of taking that grossly submissive and demeaning approach, cats prefer to think of themselves as King Shit, and not only is that an admirable and amusing quality, it’s also a much more enlightened attitude that’s not far from the truth. Because as the old joke goes: “A dog sees humans and thinks: ‘Wow they feed me, they pet me, they take care of me—they must be god.’ A cat sees humans and thinks: “Wow they feed me, they pet me, they take care of me—I must be god.’”