I’m back by popular demand (and by popular demand, I mean one person told Jamey that he liked my blog entries so I decided to write an entry every once in a while)! I’m going to provide what the masses want and if the masses want more Nancy, the masses will get more Nancy. Or at least that one guy will.
So I’m going to dedicate this blog entry to a love of mine: dogs.
I’m that person who walks into PetSmart to get shampoo for my one dog and walks out adopting another dog (and I of course forget the shampoo). I have the smartest dog ever. Her name is Kaya, which means “forgiveness” in Rastafarian. When I tell her to go to her bed, she does! When I tell her to sit, shake, hi-five, lay down, and roll over, she does (when I have a treat in my hand…come on, she doesn’t just give it up for free! I taught her better than that)! She can sense emotions and responds to them appropriately. For instance, when I’m upset, she sits next to me and cries. When I’m happy, she gives me her paws so we can dance and celebrate. She can even drive a car for crying out loud! She can go for an hour and a half long drive and only need to stop once to lick herself!
Now there’s one problem. With my love for dogs comes the unimaginable: I am NOT a lover of cats.
I know what you’re thinking…”Nancy, you’re Egyptian. Don’t you walk around carrying a cat on a beautifully ornate pillow and worship it 5 times a day?” Um, no. No I don’t. Cats freak me out. For those of you who know Jamey, you can see how my dislike for cats poses a problem. Here’s just a taste of our conversations when Biddy is around:
Jamey: Awww…look! Biddy is hovering over your dinner plate and smelling it! Isn’t that cute?
Nancy (picking cat hair out of her pasta): Uh huh.
Jamey: Did Biddy keep you up all night playing on your bed?
Nancy (with blood shot eyes from lack of sleep and bumping into the wall on the way to the bathroom): Uh huh.
Jamey: Awww…look! Biddy is chewing on your laptop’s power cord! Isn’t that adorable?
Nancy: Are you freaking serious?
My issue with cats is that they are too independent. I can’t look to a cat to be able to read my emotions and respond the way I want it to respond. I can’t look to a cat for support. I tried it once. I looked to a cat for support when I got my nose pierced and I was trying to convince my parents to let me keep it. I found a postcard of ancient Egypt with a picture of a cat with its nose pierced. I tried to convince them that having my nose pierced was part of our culture. It didn’t work. Dad said he wouldn’t pay for college anymore if I didn’t take it out. I got rid of the piercing faster than you can say Snuffaluffagus. Damn cat.
Rebuttals, Stegmaier and other cat lovers out there? Let’s hear it.