Actually, I don’t mind cats, so long as they don’t come anywhere near me. The part about cats that I hate is that they seem to seek me out and they want to torture me. If they didn’t do that, I’d be fine.
I will admit that there is something I find a bit cloying about the way so many cat owners relate to their cats. Cats are there for one purpose: to hug and pet. Or sometimes play catch a string with. Other than that, for the most part, they seem useless. The only good thing they do, in my opinion, is catch vermin. I admire that.
But I have absolutely no interest in touching a cat. I don’t like their hair. I don’t like their smell. I don’t like the way they lick themselves. I don’t like the way they lie lazily in the sun. There’s a wrongness to it.
I was raised to believe in the value of work and accomplishment. I’ve been fighting that most of my life. So you’d think that cats would be the perfect example of what I want to be, but that isn’t the case. I like dogs. I like animals that do things. Work and run and play, most of the time. And of course, I’m allergic to cats. They make me itch and sneeze. I don’t know how people would like an animal that makes them uncomfortable, but my wife is also allergic, and yet she likes cats. Go figure. My poor children would kill to have a cat. Or a dog. My wife is not fond of dogs.
Why do cat lovers think there’s something wrong with me? Well, I just listed a number of things that are wrong with me. So perhaps that’s it. Perhaps there is something wrong with people who hate cats. I don’t know. I don’t really care. I don’t like cats and I am fine with that. There’s nothing wrong with me for not liking cats. It is not a necessary part of life. But it is fun to be a cat hater around here. I like ruffling feathers. I mean… fur?