Why do some people (especially, it seems, men) hate cats?

In My Humble Opinion
41

My fiance used to hate all pets in general because his mom owned two dogs that she refused to train. Since he hated them, of course they’d use his room as a bathroom and would smear shit and pee all over his bed and floors. And he’d yell at them and chase them out. His mom also refused to spay the dogs, so when they were menstruating, they’d get blood all over the flat.

Which meant it was a huge concession for him to accept my cats with me when we moved in with him. Fortunately, you can’t tell we have cats unless you actually see them - they don’t stink, and both are trained not to claw the furniture. So now I find him having entire conversations with them when I come out of the shower. He tries to make sure I don’t see him talking to and petting them, but I walk by and hear “Yeah, man, she’s in the shower. But she’ll be out soon. So don’t worry.” So I’ll stop, thinking he’s talking to me and come out to find the cats sitting in front of him, heads cocked like they understand every word, then rubbing against his hands while he pets them. It’s hilarious. He still calls them rat cats, but he also cuddles them when he thinks I’m not watching.

42

For some reason I get this imagine of you as “The Godfather” and the cat showing his respect in such a way(except the mafia tend to leave the heads of animals in the beds of those they are displeased with :smiley: ).

43

That is the funniest/sweetest thing I’ve read all day.

My husband isn’t a big cat person, either. His main complaint about the cat is that she just “sits there.” Oh, and she will sometimes run away when he comes near her, but that’s because he is a floor stomper and wouldn’t you be scared, too, if Godzilla comes stomping toward you?

44

I think a lot of the reasons some people dislike cats, are actually things they dislike about the cat’s owners. I don’t like to enter a house smelling of litter box, but it’s the owner’s responsibility, not the cat’s. I wouldn’t feel comfortable eating at a person’s house who allowed a cat on the counters or dining table, but I’d again blame the owner. I hear people complain about a cat killing song birds and other animals, I’d lay the responsibilty at the owner’s feet also.

I prefer dogs, but find a lot of the complaints about them, are similar in nature. My reasons for not owning a cat, boils down to a personality clash. I’ve found the cats I enjoy most, exhibit traits I find more often in dogs. A good friend owns a Siamese named Gordon (Lightfoot, haha), and he is the coolest cat. I’ve been around other Siamese cats, and he is not typical in my experience. Most Siamese I’ve been around are “talkers”, and it’s not a sound I enjoy. The aloofness is another thing I do not find endearing. However, I find it hilarious when my dog brings his slobbery ball over to me, plunks it at my feet, and sighs if I don’t respond. I can see other people being less than pleased with this scenario. I figure it’s only fair to stick with dogs, rather than be disappointed when I end up with a cat that acts like a typical cat. Doesn’t stop me from enjoying them.

45

My husband and I seriously discussed getting a pet and he was dead-set against it. He had grown up with a small dog but didn’t think either of us were home enough to give a dog the attention it needed. How’z about a cat, I suggested. “No cat!” His only experience with cats was a neighbor’s that got locked in his garage when the door was open or jumped into his house through an open window and made itself at home until it was shoo’ed away. “Animals do not belong in a house.” The two of us nearly got divorced over this issue and then he finally caved in and “let me” adopt a cat, but he refused to have anything to do with it. Until it arrived, then everything changed.

My husband is now a cat lover. When we go for walks he will stop to pet all the neighborhood cats and they absolutely adore him. He plays “tag” with our cat, Blue. He feeds her, gets worried when she’s home alone for any length of time, and is really concerned when she acts out of the ordinary. He’s actually developed a relationship with Blue.

Until you’ve actually been around a cat, those generalizations of cat behavior (stalking, smelly, spraying, etc.) are all you know. Just as racial prejudices, stereotypes are dangerous. Blue is definitely “his” cat now. And we’re still married. :slight_smile:

46

…but if I attempt to remind him of his previous reluctance to get a pet, he still replies, “No cat.” :smack: While petting and fussing over the cat. Sheesh!

47

I think this is generally true, but my biker-guy-super-macho, almost-to-a-fault all-male husband is such a pushover for cats that most of his guy friends make fun of him. He actually bought a get-well gift for MY co-worker’s sick CAT yesterday. I shit you not.

He’s a doll that way.

48

Count me in as born again cat lover. Used to hate the bastards but you couldn’t buy my cat from me now. He’s indoor/outdoor, hasn’t gone in the litter box in over a year. He’s cheap, a $7 bag of cat food lasts 3 weeks. He’s fun, we’ll play chase the laser/milk jug thingy and he wakes me up 2 minutes before the alarm goes off.

He reminids me of my ex I “inherited” him from. :frowning:

49

I’ve always been a cat person, and I maintain that you can’t trust someone who says they hate cats.
Around here (West Cork, Ireland) people tend to be cat haters, live kittens are fed to greyhounds and other hunting dogs, or thrown into bonfires. And it’s not unusual for someone to deliberately run over a cat that’s sitting at the side of the road … :mad:

50

I don’t hate cats, I’m just indifferent toward them.

Here’s why I like dogs:

 [ul]

[li]Happy to see you[/li][li]Can play games[/li][li]Will protect family and house[/li][li]Are social animals[/li][li]Don’t hack up hairballs[/li][li]Don’t use the bathroom in a rank little box[/li][li]Don’t get “angry” and crap on the floor.[/li][/ul]

Reasons I don’t particularly care for cats:

[ul]
[li]Generally non-social, except with people they know[/li][li]Crap in a little rank box[/li][li]Get angry at owners and crap on floor for no reason[/li][li]Do not do much besides occasionally nuzzle you[/li][li]Really don’t give a damn whether you’re there or not[/li][/ul]

It’s true they’re generalizations, but they seem to be pretty true from my perspective.

51

You can solve the bird problem by simply keeping the cat inside. They’re better off kept inside.

As to the cat “Attitude,” I’ve owned cats my whole life, had a platoon of cats, and I simply do not see how they have an attitude or act standoffish. I don’t understand this “my cats thinks he owns me” bit either; from a behavioural point of view cats strike me as being rather obviously subservient to their owners. They simply don’t have an attitude. They’re very friendly, social animals. They act DIFFERENTLY from dogs; they have different ways of expressing their emotions. They have very different abilities and skills. But they’re just as social and love people just as much from what I’ve seen.

An interesting observation; Mrs. RickJay and I often visit the animal shelter. The dogs in the shelter are maybe 50/50 about you; some seem happy to have visitors, some display aggression. But the cats are almost uniformly BEGGING to be petted. Only maybe 1 in 20 is initially hostile, as opposed to 1 in 2 dogs.

52

It’s all in how you look at things, bump. Here’s your dogs:
Happy to see you Unless you’re a stranger, then it’s theoretically possible they could kill you
Can play games Cats can play games with people
Will protect family and house Okay
Are social animals Many cats are social animals
Don’t hack up hairballs Cats don’t chew on things like a dog will

This is the cat list:
Generally non-social, except with people they know That’s what makes it so special when they like you! It really means something.
Crap in a little rank box Or outdoors. And if the box is rank, that’s the owner’s fault.
Get angry at owners and crap on floor for no reason Not so much, really. And I’d be surprised if the cat wrote me a letter or something.
Do not do much besides occasionally nuzzle you Also purr, lick you, cuddle with you, sleep with you, etc.
Really don’t give a damn whether you’re there or not Well, it’s good to know kitty can look after himself. And I’ve had plenty of cats who enjoyed my company and showed it. I think you just need a good cat!

53

My old cat used to meow frantically every day when I came home. I heard her as I trudged up all three flights of stairs. She continued meowing until I picked her up and cuddled her. Then she’d squint at me with perfect love. My current cat plays many games, including Fetch, Bed Mouse, Beat the Lumps, and Box. Protection? Well, he does weigh only nine pounds; I’m not expecting much. My kitty goes in a little rank box–I don’t have to trudge down my stairs late at night or too darn early in the morning, in rain, sleet, and snow. I want a dog someday, but I do prefer scooping out the rank box once every day or two to scraping up a pile of fresh wet poo off the sidewalk with my hand in a bag.

My old cat only crapped on my bed when I deserved it. Seriously. We would leave her alone for the weekend with extra food and water, and come home to one dry turd–no pee–perfectly centered on the bed. You know she spent that weekend fuming, tapping her foot, with her metaphorical arms crossed in rage. “Where are they? I’ll show them.”

I’ve noticed that a lot of cat-haters have allergies, and also that allergies to cats tend to be fiecer than allergies to dogs. I have a theory on how cats got to be so comparatively reviled. People with allergies find it difficult to breath when they are in the presence of a cat; they break up in hives. Understandably, they learn to fear the sight of a cat. Unconsciously, they attribute these unpleasant physical symptoms to a maliciousness on the part of the cat.

54

I hate people who can’t read the ENTIRE freaking post before posting a response.

55

I’m a cat person.

I dated a girl who had a dog, once. A Doberman, size of a Shetland pony. That dog fawned all over her, but I never did figure out what the deal was with that dog and ME.

Sometimes, when I showed up, the dog would trot up and nuzzle my hand (Hiya, Wang! Good to see you! Got a Milk-Bone?).

Sometimes, when I showed up, the dog would tense up and give me The Look (Who the hell are you? Should I attack you? I will show teeth, and growl, and see what you do…)

Sometimes, when I showed up, the dog would bark, once, and then attack (AAAIIIEEEE! ALIEN INTRUDER! EVIL NAZI MAILMAN! EVISCERATE! EVISCERATE!).

I didn’t date the girl long enough to determine whether the dog was moody, stupid, or just screwin’ around with my head.

I dated a girl who had a dog, once. Little bitty Chihuahua, small enough to fit in my two cupped hands.
The first time I met the dog, it seemed a little nervous.
The second time I met the dog, it seemed very agitated, and barked at me furiously.
The third time I met the dog it attacked me.

Being attacked by a Chihuahua is an odd experience, the sort of thing you don’t normally experience outside of an animated cartoon. Basically, it consists of the dog charging at you going yapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyapyap while it furiously tears around your ankle in a tight circle while cuisinarting anything it can reach with its hyperactive little jaws. In a matter of seconds, before I could react, the dog had vaporized the bottom three inches of my jean cuff, the top of my sock, and had peeled the entire layer of epidermis off my ankle in a band two inches wide.

The wound was not deep, but it was difficult to treat. There was, literally, no outer layer of flesh on my damn ankle in a band two inches wide, all the way around. The guys at the emergency room recognized it immediately; apparently, no other creature in nature leaves wounds like that, if you agree that a belt sander is not a creature of nature.

Based on this experience, I concluded that the Chihuahua is not a dog, nor is it even canine in nature. The Chihuahua is, in fact, a genetically engineered mutant crossbreed of a rat and a piranha, assembled by bored Mexican scientists looking for Gringo money to fund their other research.
Once, I lived with a girl who had a dog. It was a Boston Bull Terrier named Corky, and it tried to bite my dick off, once.

I’m a cat person.

Thanks.

56

I have 2 female cats who faithfully alert Me to “visitors” - seen or unseen. “THEY” don’t like cats, because felines can sense even the most subtle presence - visible or not. I also have two dogs. These are my loving family, because I didn’t want to bring a wife and children into all of this.

57

Just because a cat scratches doesn’t make them mean. In general the majority of cats aren’t going to go right for an attack (scratch). They will exhibit warning signs via body language that they don’t want be to touched, are annoyed, etc. It’s not their fault that you ignored their signals. Through the rescue group I volunteer with I’ve been in contact with countless cats over the past two years, and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been scratched. And most of those were a result of my being careless while playing with the cat.

58

My kitty, Oedipuss Rex, who has posted here before, asked me to let him respond to some of the accusations against cats.

Translation:

I love my mommy. Whenever she reads this silly message board, I jump up and sit on her shoulder and purr. I miss her when she’s gone. We cuddle in bed and I give her kisses. I like to knead her mushy parts.

I am not stinky either. I smell like Aveda shampoo. And I get a manicure once a week. I go along because I get treats after.

I don’t get hairballs because I have special no-hairball food. I like to watch birdies and squirrels, but I can’t get them through the glass.

I go in a box that scoops automatically into a little box. My box is always clean and never stinky. I don’t go anywhere else because even though I’m only 11 months old, I know where doo-doo belongs.

Sometimes, when Mommy is sad, I jump in her lap and give her a hug. Or my sister and I act silly. She calls us her furry anti-depressants.

Sounds to me like you’re hanging around the wrong kind of cat.

59

I’m a guy and I don’t hate cats. They are a wonderful way to keep marksmanship skills properly honed and (after an overnight soak in salt water) are quite tasty browned and then simmered in spaghetti sauce.

60

Add my spouse to the list of born-again male cat lovers.

When we first got together, he’d grown up in a family of cat-haters (his father), cat-allergic (his mother) and cat-indifferent (his siblings). He himself was very allergic to cats. When we got married in '89 we got a kitten, and about eight months later we had to give the little guy away because the spouse ended up in the emergency room due to allergies (we’d thought he was over it because he didn’t show symptoms for months).

We then lived in a series of rental properties where pets weren’t allowed, so it wasn’t an issue for several years. He promised me if we bought a house, he’d get allergy treatments and we could have a cat or two.

So we bought a house. He went through two years of allergy treatments (still has to get booster shots once a month or so) and we got two cats: Meep the Russian Blue Princess and Tenshi the Pocket Cougar.

It was love at first sight. We’ve since added a third cat, Ozzy (short for Ozymandias C. Nosewuffle) and he is absolutely smitten with all three of them. He talks to them, they follow him around and curl up in his lap, and he takes his turn cleaning up the occasional scarf-n-barf they leave around the house (along with cleaning the litter boxes daily). I love watching him with them, because it’s just so obvious to me that he loves them. We both refer to ourselves as “kitty-whipped.” :slight_smile:

Anybody who says cats aren’t affectionate hasn’t seen Meep waiting for me when I get home, purring her head off, Tenshi picking up my hand so he can stuff his head under it and get petted, or Ozzy curling up next to me in bed, purring, with his cheek on mine. Anybody who says they’re indifferent has never seen Tenshi’s empathy when one of us is sick–how he comes to lie next to us, a silent comforting presence who senses that we don’t want to play but we would like some company.

Then again, they do occasionally eat their own vomit. I didn’t see who did it, but the spouse said he didn’t clean it up and neither did I, so it had to have gone somewhere…