I mean you’re shaped like a cat, have the whiskers and the retractable claws and all that, but…
You’re big, black, loveable, clumsy, dopey…
Especially the clumsy, dopey part.
No cat could be as clumsy and dopey as you are.
On the other hand, I’ve seen some pretty clumsy, dopey dogs, especially black Labrador Retrievers.
Conclusion, my beloved cuddle-bunny…
You are a Labrador Retriever stuck in a cat’s body.
Mom concurrs, to an extent. She thinks that you were a dog in your last several lives, and this is your first feline incarnation, thus, you haven’t quite figured out how to be a cat.
I’ve discovered in the past few years that not all cats are the epitome of grace and dexterity, able to tiptoe across crowded mantelpieces without disturbing more than the dust.
The cats our family had when I was still living with my parents were graceful like that. And Fuzzball (1982-2000), Empress of the Universe and my constant companion for most of my adult life thus far, was the epitome of such dexterity. She went years between missing a jump, or knocking something over that she hadn’t absolutely intended to.
But the three cats we have now, they’re a whole different story. A week doesn’t go by without one of them misjudging a jump, sometimes spectacularly. And none of them could cross a crowded mantelpiece without sending half the knickknacks to the floor.
Cats are not all the same. And some of them are more catlike or doglike than others. Same’s true with dogs: a friend of mine and her family have Samoyeds, and two of them have had very catlike attitudes towards life. The others have been all dog. You never know.
Actually, my other cat, Conan, is the epitome of feline grace. I love watching Conan walk across the room, all predatory and stuff. Never seen him knock an knicknack over, unless it was something he regarded as a potential toy, and was checking it for battableness prior to stealing it. He is slender, very delicate-looking (although he is actually quite muscular) and moves, well, like a cat.
Schrodinger once took a flying leap off the roof of our building whilst chasing a bird. Fortunately, he landed in a tree and was able to climb down to ground level.
Clumsy and dopey means it’s a dog? Not to me. I have a true “dog in a cat’s body”: Shadow. A Russian Blue-ish rescued from the county pound.
Shadow makes friends with everybody. She goes up to them, plops on her back and insists on belly scratches.
She follows you around, curious as to what you are doing (hence her name). You open something up and she’s right there nosing in for a better look. She would go out to the bus stop with my kid, wait on his shoulder for the bus and meet him at the bus stop in the afternoon and follow him home. When the kids were younger and went off running thru the woods, she would be chasing right after them to see what’s going on.
Die hard cat hating/dog loving neighbors adore her.
That, my friends, is a cat that thinks she’s a dog.
My beast, Scooter, is not afraid of dogs, chases cats, comes when I call, and heels beautifully. He knocks over stuff both by accident and on purpose. He walks beautifully on a leash, wears a harness all the time. He is a dog, in a cat suit.
My Siamese, Mikos, (1982-1999) was the epitome of un-grace. When he ran down the hall, he sounded like ker-thumpa, ker-thumpa, ker-thumpa. I’ve never known such a heavy-footed cat.
I hear there are certain veterinarians in Denmark who have pioneered the controversial field of pet ‘species-reassignment’. Sure, his bark will always sound a little meowish, but he’d be happier in the long run…
