The Midlife

I don’t hate anything except for deviled eggs. However, if I had a short list of things I don’t particularly enjoy, cats would be on the list. Despite this fact about myself, I married a cat man. My husband is a cat man. I am a dog mom. I’ll say it, again, for those in the back. I’m a proud dog mom!

When my husband and I were dating, and I would sleep over at his place in the early days, I would have to make room for his cat Ghostface Killah. (Yes, my man was a rap fan.) He was referred to affectionately as Ghost. This should have been an early indicator of my devotion to this man. I would allow his sneaky tuxedo devil to lay on me or between me and him. I must admit, Ghost’s fur was incredibly soft. OK, the constant purring didn’t annoy me as much as I thought it would. I guess love has a way of changing people, i.e., me.

As my then-boyfriend and I grew more serious, I confided in him that he was becoming my best friend. I can’t remember if we had told each other we loved each other at that point. However, he stated in no uncertain terms that Ghost was his best friend. Yes, reader, I was placed in spot No. 2. Rest assured female readers, I have successfully taken this smooth-talking ladies’ man off the market. (Happy 10th wedding anniversary, by the way, Honey!)

I took his comment, not as a slight but more as a challenge. I was determined to move into the No. 1 spot. Eventually over the years, I did make it to No. 1, but I suspect his heart would always belong to his OG feline bestie. When Ghost finally succumbed to old age at 20, his emotional imprint on my husband would never be replaced.

My husband married a dog mom. He himself had owned a beloved dog, as well. So, I guess that makes him bi, in the animal lover world. I have always had dogs in my family growing up. We had a Doberman pinscher and a poodle, the latter of which lived to age 16. As a young adult, I had a Rottweiler mix, followed by my favorite dog breed: the dachshund. I raised Brindle, a mini dachshund, from puppy to elder statesman at age 14. Bernie, a tan dachshund rescue, was 4 and lived eight years with us. Today, I have an 8-year-old chiweenie (chihuahua and dachshund mix) named Jose, and my crazy as fudge almost 2-year-old pug Pickles. I obviously have a pet dander death wish.

Our daughter, by comparison, loves all animals. (She flips on a regular basis from wanting to be a veterinarian to a police officer as a profession.) As a result, we are the foolish owners of two parakeets, two dogs, and an aquarium of too many guppies and snails. We’re idiots. But idiots with hearts of gold!

So dear reader, are you team dog or team cat? Guinea pig or ferret? Please leave a comment, as I am ready to read. P.S. If you haven’t seen The Truth About Cats & Dogs, I highly recommend you do so. It’s one of Janeane Garofalo’s best films next to Reality Bites.

In the meantime, have a great week!