Things I'm Not Terrifically Find Of: Dogs

This is, of course, an issue as old as the sun. The dog people vs. cat people rivalry is as storied as any in the history of this country, combining the bitterness the Hatfields vs. the McCoys with the intellectual repartee of Tastes Great vs. Less Filling. Few realize that the famous Douglas vs. Lincoln debates actually only mentioned slavery in passing -- it was mostly about how Lincoln's dog had been pooping all over Douglas' lawn and scaring Douglas' beloved tabby Mr. Demo-cat.

I hope I can contribute a bit more fodder to this grand national debate with the following theses. To wit:

1. Dogs smell. Cats are wonderful at keeping themselves clean. Dogs -- not so much. Their owners have to knock themselves out to bathe dogs, or they get that nasty wet-dog funk on everything within a fifty-mile radius. Cats come straight from the factory with a self-cleaning mechanism, and are so fastidious that they do it with their tongues. Can you imagine how dirty you'd have to feel before you'd be willing to clean yourself with your tongue? Cats will do it daily, no problem, usually by daintily spreading their legs and delicately licking their own anuses. That's commitment.

2. Dogs jump all over guests. Dog owners, please understand that this is not cute. It's really, really annoying. Please don't say "Oh, he likes you!" Well, then I hate him. This is not how beings of any species should introduce themselves. Unless you're Scarlett Johansson, you should never, ever react to seeing me for the first time by jumping on top of me and licking my face. It's just perhaps a bit forward.

3. A related problem with dogs is that they're unbelievable jerks. How many times have you been walking along the street, humming a song and dancing along, la di da, la di doo, and then suddenly "ARF! ARF! ARF! ARF!" And it turns out to be a dog behind a fence who's unbelievably angry because you dared walk along the sidewalk in the general vicinity of its owner's piece-of-crap house. I always try to stop and calmly explain, "Look, the whole purpose of a sidewalk is to serve as a place upon which people can walk past houses. I am fully within my right as a pedestrian. And besides, honestly, do you really think I was going to come and burglarize this house? If I were to burglarize any house on this block, I'd probably take the mangy, slobber-infested rag doll in your doghouse before trying to swipe your master's collection of dirty pans and porn movies."

And what do I get for my trouble? Same crap: "ARF! ARF! ARF!" Their owners aren't happy with this either, and usually scream at them from inside the house to shut up. Then, realizing my efforts at reasoning with the dog are for naught, I try humoring them: "Oh, my. Yes, you are very frightening. You're what, three pounds? If you were let loose, you could probably make mincemeat of my shoelaces. I'd better go burglarize a different house instead. Your owner should thank his lucky stars and give you lots of belly rubs for the way you single-handedly keep the world safe for justice and the American way by making a lot of irritating noise."

And the response? "ARF! ARF! ARF!" At what point does the dog start to think that he might not be as intimidating as he thinks he is? So, dogs are smarter than cats, eh? Well, then the SATs should be a test of who can yell the loudest at passing strangers.

4. Dogs are obsequious kiss-asses. I suppose this conflicts with the whole "Dogs are assholes" bit that I just finished writing. I'll need to amend that: Dogs have two modes: Assholish or kiss-assy. Either way, it involves asses, that round, dumb, and disgusting-in-the-center part of the body.

To strangers, dogs are assholes -- to owners, oh my God, they would literally lick their owners' assholes clean without even being asked to. They certainly spend enough time licking their owners' faces (and then their own assholes, and then back to the owners' faces -- see Thesis #1 about dogs being dirty and smelly). I think dogs would lick anything. (And yes, I've heard that dogs' mouths are as clean as an OCD germophobe, but I think this is yet another lie perpetrated by the dog-centric powers that be. Nothing that smells as bad as dog breath does could ever come from a place of cleanliness.)

Come to think of it, I think I'd rather have a dog hate me and bark at me than have it love me. At times, my friends' dogs will fall in love with me immediately and refuse to leave me alone. It's supposed to be touching, but I find it really very sad. I'm always like "Look, I'm a raging egomaniac and I even I don't think I'm THAT great." It's as if dogs have some sort of deep, all-consuming insecurity that causes them to either lash out violently or smother you with love. It's like every dog has borderline personality disorder.

The lack of self-esteem displayed by dogs really bothers me on some deep level. Cats are often affectionate, but they do it in a cooler way -- they come up and rub against you. If they don't get a response, they say, "Oh, actually, you were just in my way there. I was actually in the process of chasing an imaginary goblin." And then they run after the goblin. They go for attention in a subtle manner, and if spurned, they escape with their dignity intact.

Dogs have no dignity. They run up to you, panting, wagging their tails, getting in your face like you're a Jonas brother and they're a thirteen-year-old girl. You try to gently push them away, and then they come right back. They not only don't take rejection with dignity -- they don't take rejection at all. It doesn't compute in their feeble little minds.

I suppose this is good for some people. People often extol the loyalty of dogs, saying that they love you unconditionally and are your only true friends and yadda yadda. OK, then I guess prostitutes are the most romantic people in the world because they'll have sex with anyone. Meaning that dogs are such whores for attention that they'll love anyone, regardless of what an unlikeable prick he or she might be. So if you're incapable of gaining love from beings that have higher standards than "you must have a pulse," then yeah, I suppose a dog would be your only true friend.

Cats like their owners, but never in the overbearing way that dogs do. Cats seem more like regular animals that way. All kinds of animals can develop affection for other kinds of animals. They can hang out with them, enjoy snuggling with them, share food, etc. They never get as single-mindedly devoted as dogs do to humans. It's just not natural. No animal should willingly be so slavish to another. It's as if dogs were sad, twisted freaks created in a lab somewhere when an evil scientist accidentally spilled too much co-dependence serum into the batch.

5. Dogs poop too much. Well, that's not true. But they do have very finicky ways of pooping -- they must go outside. So the owner has to get up after a hard day, escort the dog to a exterior toilet, watch it crap, and then use a baggie to pick up their leavings. I wouldn't do this for my wife or non-existent kids, and I damn sure ain't doing it for an animal. Meanwhile, cats, who are supposedly SO finicky and prissy, have no problem with just pooping in a box full of sand. And they do it very reliably. You don't even have to train them or anything. As with their self-cleaning mechanism, the organized pooping they come with is a wonderful feature that seems to bespeak a product fully formed as a Practically Perfect Pet right out of the box. If dogs are PCs, in that they're the standard-issue pet product, then cats are Macs, better designed and more user-friendly.

So in conclusion, I believe I have proven, with great tact and impeccable reasoning, that cats are better than dogs in every conceivable way, and that all dogs should be rounded up and shot immediately. Thank you.