A Whippet, a Bichon, and a Shorkie walk into a bar...

My captors: Sophie, Lilly, and Amelia

Dog sitting for the past few weeks has forced me to accept some cold, hard truths about myself. Like the fact that I'm a cat person. This is difficult for me to accept, since up until a month ago searching for pooches on Petfinder was my #1 time waster favorite activity.

(And any of you who feel the need to roll your eyes or try and tell me why cats suck can just put a lid on it.)

First of all, dogs are stalkers. Every time I turn around I see three sets of beady eyes staring at me as if their evil plan is finally working. (See above photo for reference.) Getting up to get a glass of water? Just what they wanted. Going to the bathroom? Walking right into their trap. 

I appreciate how cats do their own thing  sleep for 20 hours a day, appear just long enough to let you pet them, and then fall asleep again. That sort of time management is hard to come by.

Also, cats are nice and quiet, unlike these barbarians. Not only do they howl at the slightest hint of a noise outside, I'm pretty sure Lilly just belched. Belched. She didn't even say excuse me afterwards. Also, her doggy breath is so bad it could kill houseplants. 

Cats don't jump up on you when you walk in the door or lick your legs when you've just come back from a run, which is a sensation I don't particularly care for. Yesterday Lilly mistook our lovely green couch for a patch of grass and whizzed all over it. Sick. How about I just sit on the floor while you treat my antique furniture like your own personal toilet. 

 Cats are independent, lazy, and a little bit bitchy-all qualities I admire in myself. 

Hello? Relatable! 

 Bottom line: If I wanted someone to follow me around and drool all day, I'd get a boyfriend.  In the meantime, I have three puppies to take outside who will attempt to assassinate me by wrapping various leashes around my legs, rendering me helpless while they plot against me. 

Wish me luck.