The Reluctant Housewife or Dorothy Parker Ate My Puppy

"When I got married, I said to my therapist, 'I want to do something creative.' He said, 'Why don't you have a baby?' I hope he's dead now." Joy Behar

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Why do people love cats?

My parents used to have a big fluffy rag doll cat. It beat my brother on IQ points and had the temperament of a duvet. It was the pet equivalent of a self-heating leg warmer. It ate, it slept, it repeated the process. Sometimes it would walk around the edge of the bath as I was soaking, lose it's footing and fall in. Unshaken, it would do a couple of laps in the foam until I fished it out and turned the hairdryer on it. Result - fragrant cat that looked like a pompom.

Yet I couldn't bring myself to like it.

Now dogs... dogs I can love. The smelly ones, the incontinent ones, the terrifyingly crazy barking ones. All of them drive me wild with enthusiasm. Henry's parents keep a pack of about 20 foxhounds - massive slavering beats with floppy ears and large teeth. Occasionally they turn on one of the pack and kill it. They bite people, eat anything and love to be handled.

That's my kind of pet.