It's hard to believe I used to be a dog person.
When I was little I desperately wanted a dog, but my mother was against having pets. She had always gotten stuck taking care of her sister's pets as a child... a bird and a bunny - both of which bit and pooped a lot. So you can imagine her experience was hardly a pleasant one.
We managed to compromise on a turtle. I was still very young at the time, and given that my mom is a neurotic, she pretty much insisted on taking care of the poor thing because she was afraid I'd get salmonella or something. It didn't help that my turtle's food was a dry powder that had to be boiled with water to form a gelatin-like substance. I think it was mostly made of shrimp, which is kind of odd for a box turtle. But she'd turn her nose up at fruits and veggies. My baby was a carnivore.
So yeah... as you can imagine, my neurotic mother wouldn't let me near the stove. And well, she has a history of just taking things out of my hands and doing it herself because I'm not meeting some obscure measure of perfection. But that didn't stop her from bitching about the fact that she had to take care of my turtle. Whose fault was that, mom? Really?
Anyway, as much as I loved my turtle, I really craved a pet that could run around outside and play with me. Being an only child sucked at times. Don't get me wrong - I loved the peace and quiet, I loved not having my toys and clothes destroyed by some careless sibling, I loved that it meant my parents had more money to spend on me... but there were times when I was lonely and wanted a playmate. I'm pretty sure if I had had a dog I would have never wished for a sibling ever again.
As I got older... and grouchier, and more cynical, and introverted... I became less of a dog person. Suddenly their boundless energy and neediness began to wear me down rather than excite me for an adventure. Their constant need to lick my face became nerve-wracking as I reached the age when my face was covered in make-up to hide the zits I had popped. Their intrusiveness and constant need for attention made me shrink away to some dark corner with a book. And of course, my mom's paranoia that every dog was a vicious killer just waiting to attack began to play havoc with my anxiety.
Which is actually ironic since I have not been bitten by a dog, but I was bitten by a cat as a child. That's probably one of the big reasons I wasn't too keen on cats when I was little. I did love my grandma's neighbor's cat, but she very rarely came inside and would only let you get a few pets in before she'd return to whatever important cat things she had on her agenda that afternoon. It was actually the cat of another of my grandma's neighbors that attacked me. We had stepped inside this woman's kitchen because my mother was speaking to her about 'adult things' or whatever. I didn't even know the lady had a cat until that bastard sunk his teeth and claws into the back of my ankle. The damn thing was deranged (if only Jackson Galaxy had been around back then!). I was literally standing in the middle of the kitchen, not touching anything, and it came racing up the steps and latched onto me. That experience soured me against cats for over a decade.
So it's kind of odd, even to me, that by the time I hit college I was desperate for a cat. I can't even pinpoint when the change happened... it just sort of did. Next thing ya know, I'm obsessed with getting a cat... but I still couldn't have one yet. I had to go home on breaks, and my mom absolutely refused to let a cat in her home even temporarily. It wasn't until my boyfriend and I moved in together that I finally got my wish. He just happened to have acquired a cat right before he met me. Now that's what I call icing on the coincidence cake! And as you all know, I have since become obsessed with my little furball (though trust me, I was just as bad about my turtle and goldfish too. Instagram just hadn't been invented yet). Consider me a cat person for life!
When I was little I desperately wanted a dog, but my mother was against having pets. She had always gotten stuck taking care of her sister's pets as a child... a bird and a bunny - both of which bit and pooped a lot. So you can imagine her experience was hardly a pleasant one.
We managed to compromise on a turtle. I was still very young at the time, and given that my mom is a neurotic, she pretty much insisted on taking care of the poor thing because she was afraid I'd get salmonella or something. It didn't help that my turtle's food was a dry powder that had to be boiled with water to form a gelatin-like substance. I think it was mostly made of shrimp, which is kind of odd for a box turtle. But she'd turn her nose up at fruits and veggies. My baby was a carnivore.
So yeah... as you can imagine, my neurotic mother wouldn't let me near the stove. And well, she has a history of just taking things out of my hands and doing it herself because I'm not meeting some obscure measure of perfection. But that didn't stop her from bitching about the fact that she had to take care of my turtle. Whose fault was that, mom? Really?
Anyway, as much as I loved my turtle, I really craved a pet that could run around outside and play with me. Being an only child sucked at times. Don't get me wrong - I loved the peace and quiet, I loved not having my toys and clothes destroyed by some careless sibling, I loved that it meant my parents had more money to spend on me... but there were times when I was lonely and wanted a playmate. I'm pretty sure if I had had a dog I would have never wished for a sibling ever again.
As I got older... and grouchier, and more cynical, and introverted... I became less of a dog person. Suddenly their boundless energy and neediness began to wear me down rather than excite me for an adventure. Their constant need to lick my face became nerve-wracking as I reached the age when my face was covered in make-up to hide the zits I had popped. Their intrusiveness and constant need for attention made me shrink away to some dark corner with a book. And of course, my mom's paranoia that every dog was a vicious killer just waiting to attack began to play havoc with my anxiety.
Which is actually ironic since I have not been bitten by a dog, but I was bitten by a cat as a child. That's probably one of the big reasons I wasn't too keen on cats when I was little. I did love my grandma's neighbor's cat, but she very rarely came inside and would only let you get a few pets in before she'd return to whatever important cat things she had on her agenda that afternoon. It was actually the cat of another of my grandma's neighbors that attacked me. We had stepped inside this woman's kitchen because my mother was speaking to her about 'adult things' or whatever. I didn't even know the lady had a cat until that bastard sunk his teeth and claws into the back of my ankle. The damn thing was deranged (if only Jackson Galaxy had been around back then!). I was literally standing in the middle of the kitchen, not touching anything, and it came racing up the steps and latched onto me. That experience soured me against cats for over a decade.
So it's kind of odd, even to me, that by the time I hit college I was desperate for a cat. I can't even pinpoint when the change happened... it just sort of did. Next thing ya know, I'm obsessed with getting a cat... but I still couldn't have one yet. I had to go home on breaks, and my mom absolutely refused to let a cat in her home even temporarily. It wasn't until my boyfriend and I moved in together that I finally got my wish. He just happened to have acquired a cat right before he met me. Now that's what I call icing on the coincidence cake! And as you all know, I have since become obsessed with my little furball (though trust me, I was just as bad about my turtle and goldfish too. Instagram just hadn't been invented yet). Consider me a cat person for life!
