no way!
I flat out have trouble trusting a man who doesn’t have any animals. if a man has cats one thing we know for sure: he isn’t a control freak.
Dogs are for men who want to be worshiped. Cats are for men who want to be challenged.
This kitteh <3ing str8 dood thinks your handle is well chosen.
The long-ago tradition of men with cats was kind of typed to bachelors. When post-WW2 social conformity took over, prolonged bachelorhood became a sign of homosexuality, so of course cats got swept up in that.
This is an Internet discussion about cats.
Where are the pictures?! :dubious:
You haven’t met my Mainey. LucyCat is about as manly as your average frilly pink dress.
Her favorite stance is lying on the floor with her paws in the air and her fluffy white belly exposed. The DSH is one who catches a mouse about once a month and goes batshit crazy when he sees a bird he thinks he can catch.
Yeah. I have to wonder about men with dogs sometimes. A man with a dog makes me think that he wants obedient followers. A man with a cat makes me think he’s content to live with something that won’t always do his bidding. My husband had a cat before we married.
About 3,840,000,000 results (0.28 seconds)
That’s right.
More than three and a half BILLION Google results from ‘cat’.
So, let’s see what we get from ‘dog’.
4,530,000,000 results.
OK. Hmmmm… perhaps this is not a metric to use in this debate.
Couldn’t care less about societal associations, or whatever fluff you’re peddling here. I’ve always, for as long as I can remember, preferred dogs to cats, and thought cats were for wimps. Dogs are obscenely fun, they love to be roughhoused with, they have tons of energy, don’t get all butthurt about getting a little water on their fur, will go for a swim with you, they’ll hunt with you. Very cool animals. Cats are lazy, prissy, and total assholes. Who wants a prissy little pet whose sole function is to look fluffy?
I was somewhat joking when I said I suspect a man who has a cat is gay, but I do strongly suspect that I could take him in a fight.
When I go for a weekend of bear hunting where I wear only a codpiece and a bowie knife, I like to know I can just leave a big bowl of food and my pet will take care of itself. Without finding a pile of shit on my bed. When I hunt Tyrannosauruses with a Beretta 92F, I don’t want to have a pet that will bark and give away my position, or get immediately eaten by that comically short armed monster.
You do know that Pomeranians, Bichon Frises, and Pekingese are all dogs, right?
To be fair to MeanOldLady, I’m pretty sure even my cat could take me in a fight.
I’m a tank commander in the Army when I’m not tooling around on my sportbike or muscle car.
And I luv my two kittehs so much.
It makes sense. I’m often in the field for a week or two at a time and I can’t take care of a dog like that. I just fill the cats’ bowls with food and go away. They don’t seem to mind.
**Are cats as pets becoming more 'Manly man" acceptable? **
No. Sorry.
Well, that isn’t exactly true. The Manly man society has recently eased its position on the large cats. Probably about the time Mike Tyson got a tiger. It is now acceptably manly to own and even pet a tiger. You might even get extra man points if you leave a tiger and a pekingese alone together.
‘Must love cats,’ is now a dealbreaker after the epic fail of my engagement.
Of course, now that the DiveMaster and his menagerie (two dogs, a cat, and a bird) and my menagerie (three cats) and I are back together, it’s all null and void.
I don’t necessarily think that a single man with a cat is gay or a sissy, but I do usually think that he’s probably a socially awkward and lonely guy, a la Jon Arbuckle. All other things being equal, I would prefer a guy with a dog over a guy with a cat. Unless it’s a fluffy little yip-yip dog, in which I would wonder if he was gay.
You have a point. One of my neighbors has a Bichon. He’s a nasty, yappy, barky little ball of grey fur that tries to either nip you or run away if you try to pet him.
You really don’t know cats. Do you know how many scratches I regularly have on my arms and hands from “playing” around? Do you know how many times I’ve been ambushed from the tops of bookshelves or under tables? Living with a cat is like living with a hairy, psychotic ninja. Who occasionally likes belly rubs.
Hey now! I have a cat and…oh. Never mind.