Confessions of a Cat Lover


My daughter, Angelica, and Oscar

My daughter, Angelica, and Oscar

Growing up, I never had a dog, at least not that I remember. I’m told we had a dog named Bumble Bee when I was very little but that doesn’t count because my memory does not protrude that far into my past. When we had pets, they were always cats. There was Horatio Quintin Higgins (called just “Higgins”…We were fans of Magnum P.I. and went a little overboard on the name thing…), Velvet, Dip, and a few others. They all mostly met their fate the same way…Getting run over by cars on the main road in front of our house.

Even since I got married more than eleven years ago, we’d only had cats. My daughter (picured above with Oscar) wanted a dog but she settled for a cat, so we’ve had three of them in the house for the last couple of years. Then in May, we visited the local Humane Society to visit an available dog we’d seen advertised on their site. Unfortunately, that dog was quarantined with kennel cough. So we decided we’d see what other dogs were available to visit. If you’ve ever been to the Humane Society and perused the area where the dogs are kept, you know how loud it can be because most of the furry little beasts are barking at the same time, making quite a cacophony. In the midst of this chaos there was one shy little fella who was not barking at all, the only one not making the least bit of noise. We decided to visit with him and the rest is history.

Oscar, a black lab mix, was about eight months old at the time and only weighed 39 pounds, a scrawny little creature. He has very long legs for a lab, so it made him look even more pathetic. We found him to be pretty well behaved, sitting on command, rarely barking, and waiting to pee and poo outside (for the most part…) when it was time to do so. His only real vices at first were chewing everything to pieces, including my wife’s Merrell shoes (there went $80 right out the window) and chasing the one cat who dared not hide in one of the bedrooms. Actually, our daughter’s 10-lb. cat has ended up pretty much owning the dog as he constantly darts out from behind miscellaneous furniture with his de-clawed paws flying furiously, hissing and growling noises emanating from his mouth. It’s quite a funny sight to behold to see a now 80-pound dog being beaten senseless by a tiny, obstinate cat. There’ve been a few occasions when Oscar has not dared re-enter the living room from the kitchen for fear of another sneak attack from behind our futon.

Anyway, to the purpose of this blog entry…I’ve always just kind of tolerated dogs. Going to friend’s houses where a dog was free to roam was sometimes quite an annoyance because I just hate having an over-exuberant canine jumping up on me and trying to lick my face. I can take calm dogs but I’ve always really disliked larger, more energetic ones. Now God has blessed us with one of the latter. He has finally learned not to jump up on me, though he is always happy to see me when I’ve been gone for the day and, yes, I do occasionally allow him to give me a sloppy “doggy kiss” on the chin.

So I confess…I, David Kellogg, who was once a cat lover only, am now a dog lover. Color me dog-smitten.

I do have a question, though, for guys who don’t like cats or who refuse to admit that they do (I think it’s more the latter…). Is it just not manly or, even worse, does admitting you like cats create some lingering thought that there might be the slightest possibility that you might be gay?

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5 Responses

  1. David,

    Excellent post! Thanks for pointing to it from my Drivel blog… I prefer the larger dog (used to have a 100 pound chocolate lab, now I have a 45 pound lab mix that I picked up at the pound as a 4 week old puppy). Way to go with the humane society instead of the pet shop!

  2. Thanks! I can’t tell you what I prefer since Oscar’s the only dog I’ve had but he seems pretty much perfect…Doesn’t bark much, doesn’t tear stuff up too much, no biting, etc. He’s a good boy!

  3. Is that how Higgins died? I can’t remember. But I do remember Bumble Bee. Just barely.

  4. I guess I don’t remember Higgins’ demise…Perhaps he finally couldn’t get his head unstuck from a yogurt cup. 😀

  5. That could be! I might have already moved to Virginia when he died. I don’t know…

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