Then later she got another cat, a tiny little almost sickly little thing. She waddled when she walked and pounced around like a miniature wild cat. She inexplicably chose me as her favorite and I grew to love her. When I got home from work she'd come right to me and seek my attention. She was small and quirky and would taunt the dog by batting its food around. I thought she was hilarious and the cleverest animal I had ever met.
At that point I was finally willing to admit that I liked cats. Even bold enough to proclaim myself a cat person. I was totally baffled at this revelation, though. How could I be a cat person when everything I ever believed about myself told me I was not? I was by no means ever a dog person. I like some dogs individually, but overall I'm not a fan of drooling and constantly being follow around and sat on (sometimes my lap has other functions than for you to sit in, dogs). So that part I was okay with, but how could I like cats? Cats were independent and stubborn and mischievous and apparently just my style. I was all those things too.
I get cats. I appreciate that, although they intentionally cause trouble, they're smart and adorable. I aspire to be the same. Also, I get cat ladies. If I let myself get another cat I don't think I could stop either. I have to admit that every time I see a cat in the pet store I'm tempted to take it home. You want to post a picture of your cat on Facebook every day Cat Lady? Do it! I'll look at your pictures. I'm proud to be your friend.
And for the record I do think dog people are great, too. Dogs are loyal and good companions so I get where you're coming from. I'm just coming from an entirely different place.