Barb showed me a video on Facebook the other day that gives you hints on how to tell that your dog doesn’t like you. The video discusses tips such as if the dog growls at you, the dog won’t let you touch it, or the dog doesn’t look you in the eye, you probably are not the pooch’s favorite person.

It was all straightforward, and with each passing enumeration, Barb and I were able to say “That’s not us. Cooper still likes us.”

But I got to thinking–how can you tell if a cat doesn’t like you? So having lived with felines since I was 8 years old, I feel qualified to share the following list with all of you.

How To Tell That Your Cat Doesn’t Like You

• If your cat doesn’t look at you–he may not like you.
• If your cat looks at you for more than 3 seconds–she probably doesn’t like you.
• If you haven’t cleaned the litter box in a couple of days–she might poop in your bed to show she doesn’t like you.
• If he doesn’t like the fresh litter in his box–he might pee on the dog’s bed to show he doesn’t like any of you.
• If your cat purrs when you hold her–it’s only a trick to make you think she likes you so you feel compelled to feed her.
• If your cat comes when you call her name–it is really a dog wearing a cat costume.*
• If you only own one cat–he doesn’t like you.
• If you own more than one cat–at least half of them, and most likely all of them, don’t like you.
• If you fill the cat’s water bowl–she will drink from the toilet to prove her disdain for you.
• While you are cleaning the vomited fur ball of your bed in the middle of the night–the cat doesn’t like you for waking him up.

Cats are cats. So if it is unconditional love you are looking for, a cat might not be your best bet. Have you considered a pet iguana?

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Read our take on the Supreme Court.

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*Note: this one doesn’t apply to us since after 12 years we still have not named our current cat. Any suggestions?

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Barb and I went on a road trip yesterday.

A friend had posted a link to an animal shelter in the south suburbs, a community we had barely heard of and never been to before. Our friend thought we might be interested in a cat that was ready for adoption.

The kitty was a nine-year-old male Persian named Billy, neutered, declawed, and in need of a new home. We thought he could make a nice companion for Princess, our own neutered, declawed nine-year-old teeny-weeny cat. Princess has spent most of her life with a canine companion and might now be a little lonely, but since Barb has yet to convince me to get another dog (never say never) a 2nd cat seemed like a possible option.

Barb picked me up from my lab, conveniently located half-way between our far-north home and the far-south shelter. I grabbed a cardboard box for a potential transport container, found a blanket in the trunk with which to line the box, and off we went. The landscape turned more rural in appearance with rolling hills and forest preserves. It was hard to believe we were still in Cook County.

After 40 minutes we reached the shelter, a small cottage set back from the road. A weathered sign on the door asked that we knock, receive a number, and then return to our car to await a phone call before admission. We knocked, and an attendant answered the door, looking as startled as we were. “What do you want?” she asked. We told her we were looking for a particular cat, and without much interest, she pointed out the cat room. “In there.”

The room was stacked with cages, many containing small, howling, sort-of-cute kittens. Not what we were looking for. Another attendant wandered in and I asked her about the Persian we had seen online.

“Oh, do you mean the male or the female?” she asked.

“Huh?” Barb and I both responded.

The attendant pointed to a double-wide cage in the bottom row and told us, “They are brother and sister, they can’t be separated.”

And sure enough, a pair of long-haired kitties were lolling in the cage; Billy, the grey-and-white cat we had seen online and a second, tabby-like long-hair with funky eyes. As we watched, GG pounced on the second cat in what did not seem at all to be a playful assault.

We left empty-handed. We were not ready to adopt a pair of cats to disturb Princess, especially when one of them seemed to have a mean streak. As my lab associate said, the shelter had put on quite a bait-and-switch.

So Princess still has no companion. I suspect Barb’s dog dreams have been reignited. I’m not sure how long I can hold out! Check back here for regular updates…

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