Why We Suck_ A Feel Good Guide to Staying Fat, Loud, Lazy and Stupid - Denis Leary [65]
The dog who played Lassie was so good-he played a goddam female dog.
How many times have we all read stories about a strange smell coming from some apartment where an elderly cat owner who hasn't been seen in over a week resides-and when they break the door down they find said owner dead in a chair. Half-eaten by his or her cats.
Ever heard a story like that about a dog?
Nope.
There is one famous tale about a dog whose owner died. They buried him in a cemetery in Edinburgh, Scotland. His dog slept on his gravestone until he himself passed away.
They made a movie about the two of them. It's called The Greyfriar's Bobby.
Now there's a statue of the dog in the center of town.
No cat statue.
Matter of fact-I don't think there's a statue of a cat anywhere on this earth. Why?
Because they suck.
We have a cat. He lives in a barn in the country and kills mice. The horses love him. My wife likes him. The kids think he's cute.
Me?
I don't trust him as far as I could throw him-which wouldn't be very far since he's the size of a fat raccoon on steroids. He's the Roger Clemens of catball.
Sneakers is the name the kids gave him but I just call him what he is-Cat. And you know what? He answers to that name just fine. Because he doesn't know he has a name. Because he doesn't care. Because he's a goddam cat. To him, I'm just a giant mouse he doesn't have to kill because I open tin cans with fish and fowl in them and place them on the floor in front of his fat cat face.
But here's my point: after the Twin Towers fell in New York City on 9/11, firefighters and cops began the daunting task of sifting through the rubble for survivors and-eventually-just human remains.
Assisted by-guess who?
That's right.
There were no rescue cats down at Ground Zero.
There are drug-sniffing dogs at airports, dogs who search the woods when you or your kids are lost, hounds who stuff their noses full of serial killer scent and chase down murdering scum, St. Bernards who gambol down steep snowy trails looking for broken-limbed ski fanatics, Belgian shepherds who search snowpacks after an avalanche, postexplosion English terriers, ocean-rescue expert Newfoundlanders and the list goes on and on. Each and every one of them waking up to find, feed, save and savor us.
When's the last time you stood at a street corner waiting for the walk sign to blink to life while a blind guy wearing wraparound sunglasses and carrying a cane sidled up to you-miraculously unafraid and NOT bumping into anything or anyone-because of the efforts of his faithful, duty-bound, Seeing Eye CAT?
Never? That would be the universal answer.
There is no Cat Whisperer.
A cat could give two catshits if you are in a good mood or a bad mood. The only time he/she/it decides to rub against your lower leg and purr its purry little purr is when it's
a. Hungry
b. Really hungry
c. Hungry and in heat
Dogs have a snout that breaks into a doggie smile when they greet you.
Cats just sit there and glare.
Dogs dream. They run and yelp and spout muted barks of warning-even as their eyes are closed-probably protecting you from some awful, unknown entity.
Cats nap.
Hoping that you fall into a deep, deep sleep. So they can then begin their secret, evil rounds.
Dogs read your body language like a fine canine encyclopedia-you are a dense, vast, infinite forest of rich and finely discernible tics and tremors. One slightly arched eyebrow on your forehead has your dog translating and reacting, placing a paw on your lap-offering an eager look and willful eyes and that thump thump thumping of a happy and eager tail.
A cat? A cat ain't even aware you just came home. And when a cat does deign to prop its gaze upon you-it's only hoping that if you drop dead right now you do so on the couch so it can have a comfy pillow to knead its perfectly manicured paws into