“Dog People”

A Study of People // A Work In Progress That Will Never Be Complete


I should have owned more cats when I was little.  I feel like it would have prepared me for the different kinds of personalities better.  We owned a lot of dogs, and so the love I knew was selfless, it was always happy and slobbery and giving.

If I’d owned more cats, I’d have been prepared for pettiness.  For vindictive, for rude, for callous and vicious and cold.  For text messages begging for forgiveness and a renewing of friendship one day, and then “I don’t want to have anything to do with you” the next.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my cat.  Poosh is one in a million, but he can be such a jerk, and I think that part of the reason he’s mad at me right now is because I try to force him to love me, even when he’s not in the mood.

You can learn a lot about loving other people and the type of love other people need and how to set boundaries where you’re giving them that love without compromising yourself by studying the difference between cats and dogs.

Cats need space.  They’re introverts, I guess, and dogs are the extroverts.

I’m a dog.  I love people; I get so excited to be around people.  Even when I’m tired or cranky or overwhelmed with a mile long to-do list, when I say, “oh, I’ll come home right after class,” a quick stop at the coffee shop turns into two hours of conversation with five different people, because being around people makes me happy.  It gives me energy, and it feels good.

It feels good to gives hugs and laughter and niceness.

And cats will take the hugs.  But they want it on their terms.  They’re selfish.

Maybe I’m just needy.  There’s always that; maybe I just want and want and want, and I want too much.  Like Jane, my puppy — she’s so obnoxious with how much she wants your love; she won’t leave you alone.

She’s lucky she’s so cute.  It’s the only reason nobody ever yells at her (until she tries to trip you, then there’s some raising of the voice) for coming up with her mouth open and eyes bright and tail wagging away.

I want my dog’s heart.  I want to be so selfless and so joyful and so loving that people will ignore the fact that I’m always in the way, in your face —

I have to get back to an essay.  I have to stop rambling.  Someday.

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