Admittedly, when people refer to themselves as cat people or dog people, my first mental image is of either a werewolf or a Thundercat. I know this is incorrect, but I’d much rather picture a cat person as Cheetara than a sad old woman with ninety-four kittens in her trailer.
Also, werewolves are awesome.
In any case, I tend to think that a person’s designation as a ‘cat person’ or ‘dog person’ as pretty indicative of their personality. F’rinstance, I used to think I was a cat person. This was mostly because I liked cats. A lot. My bedroom was wallpapered with hand-me-down kitten posters. I constructed elaborate games of pretend out of my Pound Kitty collection. In the second grade, I wrote a series of short stories centered on Giggles the Tabby, who eventually got murdered by the mob.
I got in trouble for that one. Apparently drawing a cat’s brain exploding out the side of her head denotes some sort of issue.
As I got older, though, I came to a slow realization. I loved cats, yeah, but I had near nothing in common with felinus domesticus. I wasn’t aloof. I wasn’t majestic. Heck, I wasn’t even all that independent. All in all, I was much more like a pooch than a pussycat.
A larger terrier, to be exact.
I’m bright, but unfocused. Affectionate. Attention-hungry. A bit yappy and generally easy to please. Honestly, I’m the precise definition of ‘hound in human form’. I won’t grow fangs at the full moon (goddammit) but I do crave my fair portion of red meat and have a habit of begging for a bit of whatever somebody’s cooking. I’m a dog person.
I still adore cats. I’d love to adopt a couple when I can, but I think I’ll have a far greater connection to my future pooch.
What about you all? Cat people or dog people? In what way?