Dear Tally,

We’d like to extend our thanks for your prompt and detailed response to our question regarding your feline-ness. It was proposed partly in jest, but, as we feared, may have been taken too literally. Cats, as your experience has no doubt taught you, are not terribly adept at humor.

As eldest, I’ll speak for both Poppy and me in offering a rebuttal, of sorts. We certainly acknowledge your “dogness”; your size alone is proof of that. The Maine Coon, our largest representative, is diminutive by comparison. However, while your species is beyond doubt, we feel that cats have attained advantages in our relations with our human counterparts from which dogs could greatly benefit. I shall make use of your “dogness” list to illustrate:

1. I go potty outside

While there are some of our own kind who make use of the outdoors for elimination purposes, Poppy and I have the benefit of a designated location within the home. This offers privacy, safety and hygiene, and we have arranged with a cohabitationist (hereafter known as Joel) to have the area cleaned daily.

2. I like biscuits and have been known to roll over for them

We also enjoy the occasional treat, and have been known, on occasion, to…ahem…make our desires known though body language, though we will deny any unbecoming behavior if questioned later. However, by periodically turning down less appetizing morsels, Joel will offer rarer delicacies in the future. We suggest that you try this yourself to improve the caliber of biscuits you are offered.

3. I don’t scratch furniture *for fun*

Unlike dogs, cats need to keep claws in fighting trim. The prospect of harassment by people presents a greater health hazard due to our disadvantaged size. Being denied unprocessed wood, in the form of trees, on which to sharpen them, we make use of what is at hand. Noting that you added the modifier “for fun”, presumably attributing this motivation to our behavior, we can’t help but wonder, for what more acceptable reason you scratch furniture.

4. I don’t eat plants (inside) *for fun*

Once again, denied access to the out-of-doors, we make use of those dietary supplements at hand. Our confinement, while appreciated for the security it provides, limits access to the natural world and its various benefits. And, in contrast, we, as a species, are not particularly known for such activities as uprooting meticulously-kept plantings in order to bury…well, it matters not what. Suffice to say, one may not want to disparage another’s ideas of “fun”, for fear of bringing scrutiny upon one’s own.

5. I like to ride in cars

I will gladly accept the mantle of “scaredy” if it keeps me from riding in one of those awful things, let alone putting my head out of its window.

6. I don’t play with string

Would a rope pull-toy count?

7. I am man’s best friend, and Steinbeck even wrote about it

Here is where our methods differ most starkly, I believe. Dogs offer, in most cases, unconditional affection. Cats, on the other hand, offer something different, but no less valuable: a challenge. We reserve our affection, making our people earn it. We may train them for weeks, even months, to offer us choice meats, crawl around on the floor after us, in the desperate hope that we might deign to allow a stroke down our back. These behavior modification techniques may seem unnecessarily cruel and manipulative, but our people surely treasure us all the more when we crawl into a lap to fall asleep, showing them unequivocally how safe we feel in their presence.

8. I don’t sit on things people are trying to read

Let’s just call that “helping to set priorities”.

9. I don’t climb things I am not supposed to [often]

While it might be amusing to see you perched on top of a cabinet (to say nothing of watching its attainment!), this distinction between us is more physiological than behavioral. We are arboreal, by nature, and most comfortable in high places. Human dwellings are dreadfully insufficient in this respect, and, frankly, the abject groveling that we require from their inhabitants would be warranted for this reason alone. I’ve heard legends of houses built with narrow, elevated paths for their feline residents, but don’t expect to see this development in my own home. We have an agreement with Joel and Susan: as long as they are not present, we are allowed on any surface in the house. However, please don’t try to verify this arrangement with them, for the sheer embarrassment at their permissiveness will demand that they deny it.

10. I don’t think I am better than everyone else, well maybe chihuahuas, no, on second thought, they’re cool too.

I shall overlook the implied slight in this observation, if only to avoid the awkwardness of pointing out the arrogance of one’s protestations of modesty. Instead, I’ll submit that what is often mistaken as haughty detachment in cats is, in actuality, an humble deference to those personalities more gregarious than our own. We are not seekers of attention, normally, but prefer the quiet corner from which to observe the jovial antics of our canine brethren. Perhaps we protest too effusively when encouraged to join in play, but it is merely out of reluctance to steal the spotlight that we so obviously deserve…er…to detract from the lovable capering!…goodness, does it ever end, this bouncing around and whining and yapping, and if that mutt crouches down in front of me ONE MORE TIME…ahem, excuse me. It’s late. I should close.

In conclusion, I hope that we’ve reached a mutual understanding of each other’s habits and peculiarities. And, since we share the love of a good nap, I shall avail myself of one immediately. Take good care of your people and your new home, and Dogspeed in your exploration of the wilderness that surrounds them. I don’t care for it, myself.
Your Friend,

Daisy

p.s. – Hi, I’m Poppy!! What’s in the pantry? Hey, what’s that? What’s under there? Who are you? You smell different, why? Hey, what’s that? What was that noise? Ooh, that smells good! HEY! (runs off)