Dan's Papers - April 17, 2009 - Dog vs. Cat: The Eternal Debate

"I am not a cat man, but a dog man, and all felines can tell this at a glance - a sharp, vindictive glance."

My husband and I were dog sitting again this past week. A chore we both like to take on because we don't have a dog. Anyone out there who's read this column from the Montauk Pioneer knows that we have two cats or, as I like to say, almost 40 pounds of cat meat in our house. Our two Maine Coons, Robbie and Roxie Hart, are almost like dogs, but not quite. This recent dog-sitting job made that abundantly clear.

Whenever we pull up to our house at dinnertime the cats are generally at the window, waiting, crying and make a fuss as we enter. However, if it's the middle of the day, or after dinner, they can be found sleeping on the bed or couch, and don't pay much attention to our arrival. But whenever we got to the house where we were dog sitting, the dogs were at the window, the door, jumping, crying and obviously thrilled we were there.

I have no doubt our cats love us. They show us this in numerous ways. However, it's pretty much a given that dogs are more obviously attached to their owners, so it was with great enthusiasm that I'd pull up to our dog sitting house each evening and revel in the great doggie welcome I got.

I longed to have these dogs, at least one of them, in our home (two is a lot of dog). They came when I called; they sat with their heads on my leg and never left my side. This is what having a pet is all about, I'd think, as a 65-pound dog tried to make its way onto my lap. My husband became the apple of the female dog's eye, she was obviously smitten with him and he enjoyed them both very much.

I went home each evening to our cats while my husband remained with the dogs. Not our favorite arrangement but one does what one must. The first two nights our cat Robbie, who always sleeps at my feet, never came to our bed. He spent the night in his favorite cardboard box, joining me briefly at dawn to begin his gentle reminders that breakfast should be served shortly. I felt he could sense that I was enamored of some dogs and had turned his back on me in disgust.

On the last day of dog sitting, I was scheduled for the lunchtime visit and then again later in the afternoon. As I left the door with both dogs on leashes, they each went in different directions. I was pulled and yanked around the backyard, dragged to the driveway where a fight ensued about going for a car ride or not. I tried to keep them outside for fresh air but they whined and pulled me around so much I finally gave up. Once back inside the house, they were all over me, licking, leaping, crying and pushing at my hands constantly for me to pet them. I finally snuck out of the house and looked guiltily over my shoulder to see them both crying at the front window. My next visit was just the same, jumping dogs, begging for attention, adorable but needy.

As I crawled into bed alone again that night, I heard a familiar sound: Robbie gaining up speed to make the leap onto the bed. As he curled around my feet a few times, finally settling in with his head ever-so-lightly on my foot, all I could think was: this is what having a pet is all about.