Just One or Two Reasons Why I am a Cat Person

We have a blended household here....a mixed marriage. Paul is a die-hard dog person, and I am a cat-person. We have had many a conversation over why we refuse to switch camps. And I do have to point out that Paul showed great sacrificial love to me about five years ago when, for my birthday, he got me our cat, Cammie. She is pretty great, most of the time....but that could be said for any cat.

Paul's entire family consists of dog-people. Any time you enter any one of their homes, you will most likely be welcomed by barking. But enough about his family's strange welcoming routine....

We went to his sister Carey's house yesterday for the family Thanksgiving. They have three dogs, all of different breeds. Their newest family member is a puppy named Boss. He is a Beabull, which is a cross of a Beagle and English Bulldog. He has the face and height of a Beagle, but the markings and stockiness of a bulldog. He IS a cute little guy, and yes, I am able to recognize the extreme cuteness of a puppy. I just don't want to be the mama to one. When Carey's husband got Boss out of the cage to greet Abigail and me, he jumped on us in all of his puppy wiggliness. And then I felt it on my jeans. The warm. The wet.

Five minutes at their house, an hour and a half from my nearest wardrobe change, and I had been peed on.

Now, I can handle a little pee with grace and dignity. It happens. Carey washed my jeans for me while I wore some of her daughter's cargos (thanks, Brandi). But I did feel the need to remind them about another time I had visited their house.....

Paul and I were engaged at the time, and we had gone to Carey's house. They had a dog at the time named Harley. We had just eaten, and I had my legs outstretched under the table. Then I felt....something....that I had never felt before happening to my leg. Yes, my dears, I was officially being humped. As someone who had been raised with cats, I reacted normally and freaked out. I felt extremely violated. He hadn't even ASKED! All of the dog-people around me had a good laugh and then told me that was just part of owning a dog.

Don't get me wrong. I truly enjoy going to Carey's house. It is warm and welcoming in every way. But for me, that is not any way that involves their dogs. I must have a cat-shaped target on my forehead when I walk in there, and those dogs are ready for me. I just told them yesterday that I have had reaffirmed to me, once again, why I choose to stick with aloof, uncaring felines. Oh, I'm sure Paul will win this battle someday, but as long as I can keep coming up with excuses, I think it will be a while.