What keeps me from owning dogs are the following:
-I'm not allowed to own a dog in my building. Fair enough. I signed a lease agreeing to these terms.
-Dogs need walks. It's not that I'm against walks, it's that my life doesn't have the consistency to walk a dog every day at both 5am and 7pm. And furthermore:
-Picking up warm poop does not appeal to me. Period. In this sense I would make a horrible dog owner as well as potential threat to public health.
-Dogs smell. It's true, dog-people. Your beloved animals, regardless of how sweet, well-behaved and obedient they are, do, in fact, smell. Anytime I touch a dog I feel the need to wash my hands. Not because of some weird OCD quirk, but because that smelly dog smell is now living on my hand, and it grosses me out. I can't eat a sandwich with that smell on my hands.
So I own cats. I've lived with/cared for dogs, and I love them all. I've owned two cats by myself, and this is a story about my present cat, the love of my life, Ocho. I love Ocho-Cheecho more than life itself. She's beautiful, and in my eyes can do no wrong.
Until last night.
(isn't she cute?)
I was sitting on the couch with my roommate, watching Generation Kill, with Ocho between us, when suddenly, she (ocho) jumped up and began licking herself in a place not fit for mixed company.
Like a baton from a New York City cop, it hit us at once: Ocho had farted.
Holy crap! I didn't know cats had the ability to fart. I knew dogs could. I used to have a job where the boss brought her black lab along, and he ripped on a fairly regular basis. I had never experienced a cat fart, and let me tell you, it was horrifying. They may be small, those cats, but it only serves to compact the anal vapor that much more.
I know it wasn't a fluke, because she ripped two more before the night was done, and licked herself in the same spot each time. A diet change is in order...
Maybe it's not too late to own a goldfish.
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