I hate cats.
I hate dogs.
I am always puzzled when I hear people make these kinds of statements. Maybe its just me though. I am someone who just loves animals—all animals—so I can’t imagine proclaiming loathing of any particular species or breed. Sure, there are some that are more appealing to me than others, but overall, its all about unconditional love in the end.
Still, there is no denying that when it comes to cats and dogs—they are definitely viewing the world from different planetary orbits. With animals, just as with people, it comes down to the little differences, the little quirky ways that give each species it’s own style.
Take drawers, for example.Open a drawer and a dog might notice. It might look up as if to say "hey, what are you doing?" It might even go so far as to wander over and inspect the whole process from a closer vantage. Depending on the size of the dog, it might even peer inside and take a quick sniff. In most cases, unless the drawer is full of raw meat or shrieking squirrels, dogs will regard the whole process of drawers—their opening and closing—with barely a shrug.
Cats. Now there is a horse of an entirely different color.
Open a drawer and cats will come running from everywhere. Sometimes cats that aren't even yours appear for the grand event. And the opening is just the start of the festivities. The real show begins after the drawer is opened, for that serves to reveal the plethora of "things" inside. I can pretty much guarantee you that no dog—at least no real dog— has ever felt the urge to crawl inside a drawer. Much less try to crawl behind it, or had a frantic yowling fit because their head has become wedged. Cats, however, seem instinctually driven to perform such feats.
And then, while you’re putting away the crowbar and wondering just how you’re going to reattach the dresser top, the newly freed feline will once again hop inside the same drawer and proceed to dig out its contents onto the floor.
In a multi-cat household, trying to put away the laundry can pretty much be an all-day chore.
And speaking of laundry. (You may see where this is headed)
When was the last time you found your dog in the dryer, hmmm?
That’s not to say, however, that dogs don’t like to get into things. I came home one day to find my Keeshond sleeping on the bottom shelf of the bathroom linen closet. It was roughly the space of a medium dog carrier and she simply walked inside, nudged out whatever towels she didn't care for, and made herself right at home. (Which is ironic when you consider the fact that I couldn't get her anywhere near her carrier.) Yet, from that time on whenever it stormed she made a beeline for that cubby hole and cowered until the skies cleared again. If the door was closed, she would stand in front of it and yelp until someone opened it for her.
Speaking of bathrooms (well, indirectly).
We have something at our house that my roommate and I refer to as "the water show."
I don’t know how many times a day we find ourselves finishing up with bathroom-type business only to be knocked into or stepped on by one of our cats trying to get to the toilet bowl while the water is filling up. Sometimes they gather around in a silent circle of awe to witness this modern plumbing miracle. One cat will literally lead us into the bathroom and once there, stand wide-eyed in front of the bowl meowing until la Grande flush.
Another daily episode of the "water show" is the shower. This one, however, makes more sense to me. With a glass enclosed shower, water cascading down becomes a grand game of slap and meow that ends entirely too quickly to suit most cats. We have two cats that can’t wait for you to exit so that they can slink carefully into the stall (god forbid they actually get water on more than their paws). Once inside, they move to the farthest rear corner where they sit and stare at the drain. As near as we can figure it out, it must be some sort-of feline spa thing happening—a sauna/meditation ritual, followed by intense grooming of any remotely wet fur then a three-hour nap (brought on by the exertion, no doubt).
The occasional filling of the bathtub is an event of epic proportions. Its the ultimate "water show" experience. There is, however, an element of danger, for the uncoordinated spectator has occasionally become a most unwilling participant. All but one of our cats has made a guest appearance in the bath time portion of "the water show." Those performances—though brief and extremely frantic—are very memorable for all involved.
Nothing adds to a soothing relaxing soak in the bath quite like a frenzied sopping wet cat trying to climb on your head. Ahhh, another Calgon moment.
The faucet, however, doesn’t quite have the same appeal. Too tame apparently.
Generally, dogs don’t have this same fascination with all things aquatic. Toilet bowls are largely for drinking from, but certainly not worthy of unblinking appraisal.
And I have yet to own a dog that willingly comes anywhere near the shower or the tub. They might wander by, but start frantically looking for all available exits when the nearest human approaches.
I have found one thing that dogs and cats do generally have in common. They both flee (well yes—they both "flea" too) at the notion of bathing. A dog will swim and a cat will splash but the moment that soap becomes involved it becomes a whole different matter entirely. In either case, the human inevitably ends up all wet.
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