A Dog's Life
Okay, here's a hot subject for a real controversy. Dogs are way smarter than cats. Don't get me wrong. I like cats. I love cats. I've had a lot of cats in my lifetime. Once, in Rome, when both our female cats got knocked up by our male cat at the same time, my wife and I lived with 11 of them until we finally found homes for the little spin-offs. And even then we kept a couple. We had a calico once in Italy, named Caramela, and she and our cocker spaniel fell desperately, inseparably in love with each other. I've had cats that were incredibly smart, and that's how I know dogs are smarter. A smart cat behaves like a dog. A really smart cat comes when she's called. So much for that independent thing "cat people" claim they value so highly. Most cats just give the illusion of being intelligent because they're ruled more by their instincts than dogs. The smarter the cat, the more likely she is to suck up to people, just like dogs. Dogs express intense sexual frustration by trying to hump a person's leg. Cats sink their fangs into your hand. You tell me which is smarter.
posted by John M Crowther @ 7:37 AM
15 Comments:
>>A smart cat behaves like a dog. A really smart cat comes when she's called.<<
Now that we’re done with the biblical, I’m glad you’re moving on to a topic of even profounder significance: the difference between cats and dogs.
This is an inexhaustible subject which is even more effective than a Rorschach test in determining the true personalities of one’s assumed friends. Yes, I would agree that a really smart cat behaves like a dog, and, to take that observation to its reductio ad absurdum, have you ever noticed how a really smart dog behaves like a human? In my experience, some humans behave like cats, some like dogs, but the hardest thing to find these days is a really smart woman who comes when she called.
'but the hardest thing to find these days is a really smart woman who comes when she called.'
Them there words are fightin' words, partner! May have to call for pistols at dawn. No time at present to present my argument but will be repling in depth later this evening. Be prepared, il professore!, says she with determination and a battle light in her eye.
Yeah, let the games begin! I love it!
It takes a really smart man to get a really smart woman to come when she is called. If he is super bright he does not even have to call her. She comes because she wants to.
Katherine
Il professore, Sir; this is to inform you that I may have to take recourse in demanding a duel at dawn, or 10:45 am, whichever is the most convienent for you although I must, in all fairness, warn you that I am extremely grouchy in the early morning, having been known to speak sharply to others at that time of the day so maybe it should be 10:45 am, or better still after 'elevens' as we will not wish to disoblige ourselves with extremes.
Your choice of weapons, of course, but once again feel that I must point out that I cry and throw up at the sight of guns, knives, fisticuffs or any other type of violent methods. Perhaps the weapon of choice should be pillows, or feathers if you feel that pillows are unduly harsh, the weapon to be thrown at a distance of 20 paces. As you are a reasonable, extremely witty man, I am sure that you will see the error of your statement and console me with an apology.
Of course if it rains, the duel would be cancelled immediately as my appearance suffers when wet.
Cease and desist! Put away the dueling pistols! I am a peaceable man, a modest observer of the passing parade, and when I say that the hardest thing to find today is a really smart woman who comes when she’s called by no means do I advocate that women do so, anymore than I’d suggest that cats and dogs come when summoned. Chacun à son goût.
I am presently sharing a space with a second-hand cat who recognizes no names, no pats to leap up on the bed; she comes and goes as she pleases. (Reminds me of my last girl friend.)
From lovelorn groupers to lovely groupies there will always be women out there who will choose to answer the call, just as there will be others who march to a different drummer or the entire rhythm section.
The comments I post here are not necessarily those of our sponsor nor even myself. They are written on the wind. All I do is transcribe them and pass them on.
Ah, il professore, sweet and persausive words fall from your lips and I, as the noble creature that I am, shall take these words to my heart for the apology sought, therefore declaring that the need for a duel to be over.
I am owned by a kinsman of your cat of no name, who graciously allows me to cook and serve him chicken livers upon his evening repast.
Besides you win, you can speak French and I can not, says she laughing.
>>says she laughing. <<
Laughing but not falling off your chair. Thank you.
By the way, I do not speak French, I fake it, but I do speak some Italian, which reminds me of the sublime final moments of the last act of The Marriage of Figaro. The Count begs forgiveness, the Countess sings, “Piu docile sono, e dico di si.”
The word “docile” (pronounced dough+chile, as in powder) can be translated as “docile” of course, but also as “amenable,” “mild and meek,” “flexible” and even “obedient.” However you choose to translate it, I want to go on record as saying the Countess has always been my kind of girl.
This got settled way too easily. I was looking forward to a good cat fight, or a dog fight. Cat and dog fight? Whatever.
I’m sorry not have been more contentious, but the fact is I don’t have a bone to pick with Lee. (Pun intended)
>>Dogs express intense sexual frustration by trying to hump a person's leg. Cats sink their fangs into your hand. You tell me which is smarter. <<
As much as I admire the intelligence of many a dog, --why some of my best friends are canine! -- I do take issue with your statement that dogs display their sexual frustrations by leg humping.
My observation has been that most dogs cannot differentiate between a good-sized leg and another member of their species; rather than showing frustration, humping dogs always seem to be having a really good time, perhaps more so than if they were actually engaged in coitus.
Cats, on the other hand, seem ready to sink their fangs into any available hand without the slightest provocation; again, I don’t see that as an overtly sexual act, it’s simply something that felines do in their spare time, of which they have an over-abundance. It’s like purring. Science has yet to find a reasonable explanation for their behavior.
In defense of cats, there is an air of mystery about them that some of us find extremely attractive. You can love a dog, but you can only hope a cat respects you in the morning.
You can love a dog, but you can only hope a cat respects you in the morning.
Il professore, now you have done it. 'Fell off my chair laughing', says she with chagrin.
Now that, prof, is really funny!
>>Il professore, now you have done it. 'Fell off my chair laughing', <<
Lee,
If you don’t stop falling off that chair of yours, John is going to have to take out liability insurance. (Also see my 10:10 AM comment under “Dahg 2”)
Speaking further in defense of cats, I was reminded tonight of something I first read in a Salinger short story, possibly half a century ago. It seemed at the time the perfect definition of the difference between sentiment and sentimentality. One of the Glass family said that he was certain God loved kittens very much; he wasn’t certain, however, that God loved them with mittens on their paws.
Dogs make me feel sentimental, but cats bring out the sentiment in me.
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