Scientific Proof that Cats are Better than Dogs.
Movies, media, the culture at large, all erroneously present to us the flawed concept that dogs are more ferocious, fearless and exemplary than cats. Given the very nature of the domestic house cat- independent, stubborn, composed and carnivorous- one has to ask: How did this atrocity happen? How did such an obvious falsehood infiltrate the minds of intelligent, thinking adults throughout America? Unfortunately, this is no treatise on the ways in which one's culture can so blatantly and overwhelmingly disregard common sense and hard data. Rather, it is an attempt, albeit a small one, to somehow turn the tide of such perverted reasoning, and in doing so, awaken the world to a paradigm of truth and enlightenment.
What follows are the fruits of painstaking research carried out over the course of many months. In a controlled environment, my two test subjects, Vesuvius and Bailey, were exposed to numerous tests in which a determination was made relating to their respective strengths in physical prowess, psychological health, and moral character. In addition, tests were carried out to gauge the animal's overall level of obnoxiousness, dependability, and empathy. Let's begin with an introduction to our two test subjects, Vesuvius and Bailey.
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Vesuvius the Cat
This is Vesuvius. She lurks in the shadows. She does not slobber, she does not bark. She poops in a box and then covers it up. She does not experience separation anxiety if I leave for half and hour, because she has a healthy view of herself and of her relationships with others. If you ignore her, she honestly will not care, and will be more than willing to return the favor. If she was a human, you would think she was a total dick, but at the same time you'd secretly harbor an intense jealousy for how cool she was. If you are nice to her, she will sit on your lap and allow you to pet her. She is like a little ballerina wielding ten machetes. If you try to attack her, she will rip out your jugular with her teeth and then go hide under the bed. She is my little buddy.
Bailey the Dog
This is Bailey. Every single aspiration, dream and motivation experienced in her little doggy brain can be adequately summed up with one sentence: The pursuit of calories. Bailey exists solely to put food in her belly, and her definition of that word is far, far more expansive than ours. She pulls out used Kleenex from my wastebasket and licks them clean; she eats rotten vegetables out of our stinking compost pile; and she gorges on the litter box droppings of Vesuvius and speedily consumes as much feces as she can before she is caught and scolded, smugly licking the filth from her lips with mischievous delight. She panic barks at every minor noise resembling a knock at the door, and yet would instantly befriend any burglar, rapist, or serial killer who graced our doorstep with but one scratch of her rump. She has bad breath, sheds constantly, and has serious codependency issues.
The Misadventures of Bailey Baker
- Who is Bailey, and Why is She Having Misadventures? | The Misadventures of Bailey Baker the Beagle
A comic about a dog and her love for sausage.
Reason #1: Kill or Die
I ask you, conflicted reader, what strikes more fear in your heart? An animal that possesses the capability of surviving on a vegetarian diet, or a wild beast that will die if it does not sate it's belly with the flesh of another living creature? The answer is the second one. duh.
The domestic cat is a true carnivore, meaning they require a diet of primarily animal flesh and organs. Yes, organs. Without this steady diet of raw, quivering flesh, the beastly entity known as the house cat will go deaf and blind and will have serious heart and liver complications. Bailey, on the other hand, without a steady of garbage and cat poop, will grow lethargic and increasingly obnoxious. Oh wait, she's already lethargic and obnoxious. I suppose she'll just poop less.
Reason #2: Independence
Yes, it's true, if I leave the house for eight hours Vesuvius does not consider it an opportunity to avenge her broken heart by pooping on my bed or by emptying the contents of the garbage can onto the kitchen floor. In fact, she most likely sees it as an opportunity for self-reflection or for an uninterrupted nap. Not so with the dog though. Upon ownership, the dog instantly relinquishes all sense of individuality to the human, and with that goes their self-respect too. Bad behavior equals attention, and in the depraved mind of the dog, attention reigns supreme.
The fact that dog-ownership entails following them on walks and cleaning up their fecal waste should be our first indicator of just how dysfunctional these relationships truly are. But really, if we condemn those relationships built upon codependency among humans, why celebrate them in any other context? The need for emotional reassurance, a severe affliction of separation anxiety, and a self-esteem so meager as to warrant an increased affection after their mistreatment should be our first indication of just how maladjusted the canine truly is. Jack Byrnes elucidates more fully upon this subject in the clip below:
Reason #3: Bailey Lives in Fear of Vesuvius
Bailey weighs thirty pounds and has the jaw strength to bite off a finger. Vesuvius weighs 8 pounds and has been mercilessly declawed by her previous captors. And yet, in a world in which physical size and strength can mean the difference between life and death, Vesuvius has asserted and maintains complete and utter dominance over Bailey through psychological intimidation alone.
Even that most prized of possessions, food, is not motivation enough for Bailey to stand up to her brown-furred overlord. In numerous instances, Bailey's food bowl has been intercepted by Vesuvius. While the cat struggles to bite into food pellets much larger than she is accustomed to and of which she probably does not even enjoy, Bailey looks on, an expression of disbelief and craven terror fixed upon her large, russet-brown eyes, frozen between a paralyzing fear of the cat and a passion-filled longing for that which she desires most.
Reason #4: My Cat's Distant Relatives can beat up your Dog's Distant Relatives
This one's pretty simple actually. If Vesuvius got her extended family together for a battle royale with Bailey's extended family, the sheer abundance of wolf corpses would feed her lion, bobcat, puma, mountain lion, tiger, and lynx relatives for quite some time. Hence, in my bizarre, convoluted sense of logic, a house cat is more awesome than a dog in a manly way because a completely different animal could eat another completely different animal. It makes perfect sense, don't question it. Moving on!
Reason #5: Self-Respect, Composure, and General Coolness
Vesuvius has three eyelids, excellent night vision, and will land on her feet if tossed from a three-story window. Furthermore, her well-adjusted sense of self ensures that when I leave the house, she will not sit at the front door whining and drooling like an idiot for the next hour. She understands that that guy who comes to our house every single day to put envelopes in a little metal slot is not a murderer whose presence warrants a high-pitched scream-bark for two minutes. She greets my arrival with a low-volume meow and a polite leg rub, not with a frenzied sprint around the house accentuated by squeals, exaggerated butt shakes and violent tail wags that knock glasses of water off the coffee table. Lastly, and most importantly, her personal hygiene is second to none, and when she licks her butt it is solely for the purpose of cleanliness, and not as a source of sustenance.
On the subject of sustenance, the total lack of even a modicum of dietary self-control by the dog should be pointed out. Case in point: Last week Bailey was able to appropriate a number of grocery items absentmindedly left in the garage. Two bagels and eight, hamburger-sized sausage patties later, the bologna-loaf shaped glutton was sprawled out on the couch, simultaneously celebrating and bemoaning her gastrointestinal victory. A scant hour later, she appeared in the backyard, licking grease off the grill spatula and scavenging through the compost pile, seemingly unaffected by the fact that she had just consumed the caloric equivalent of an entire day's worth of food for a 200 lb. human.
I'm certain that the scarcity of food in the wild is God's personal gift to the Beagle: a sausage bush would be certain death for their kind.
If you made it this far, I owe you at least a paragraph of truth and seriousness. I actually don't have a preference for dogs or cats, I just think animals are quite awesome, and unbeknownst to them, highly comical. I very much look forward to owning a dog someday soon, but one that is trained, obedient, and non-beagle. Don't get me wrong, Bailey is indeed cute, and has a pleasant disposition, but her penchant for food coupled with the most powerful nose in the universe is a recipe for extreme naughtiness. Writing this hub has been extremely therapeutic in my relationship with Bailey, a dog whom I want to pet and hug one moment, and drop kick across the street the next. But the beauty of the dog is that you can actually train them. The cat on the other hand, well, good luck. They are insufferable, unreasonable, and ever in control, which brings me to my next, and final gift to you: 5 Ways to effectively annoy your cat. You are welcome.
This hub is dedicated to my pal Ben Olson, who although being a close friend, is nevertheless dead wrong in his opinions relating to dogs and cats. May our debate on this topic rage ever on.
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