Dogs or Cats : QOTD

What is good about having a pet?

Well, having owned quite a few pets (dogs, cats, chickens) from a young age, I can tell you that they are certainly both a good thing and a bad thing. The bad thing with dogs is usually poor training or the fact that we forgot to put the bin outside, so it was shredded by Nina and, now, Dobby. Dogs are amazing because in my mind they are on the specially challenged end of the seesaw in comparison with a cat’s intellect. Dogs are big, they jump on you, sit on your head (thanks, Dobby), and provide all sorts of soft cuddliness. They might occasionally trash the house, but you can’t stay mad at them for long.

Now, cats. Oh, dear. They can leave you with lifelong scars all over your body in an instant. The only time you realize that you have been assaulted is when the blood starts dripping from the needle-like claws, puncturing you like a needle. BUT wait, there is something about cats though. You can never put your finger on it. You can see it in their eyes as they track your movements, wondering where to strike next. But no. You pull out the catnip, and suddenly, you have one chilled cat. After the mandatory running laps around the house, they pass out. Cats are harder to please, whereas a dog is just a dog. Cats are more evil and cunning.

Conclusion

In conclusion, dogs are easy to please and they will love you endlessly. They will trust you no matter what. They are there for hugs and can listen to you talk about how crappy your day was. Cats are good for catching mice, flies, spiders, and… well, they are a tough one. But they make you smile. You can talk to them for hours, share a little cheese with them, and when they aren’t cutting you up, they sit in your lap and claim victory against dogs.

dogs closeup photo of brown and black dog face
Photo by Lum3n on Pexels.com

Blood Brother

Blood family

Blood is thicker than water. I used to believe that. I was a naive 16-year-old saying that. Of course, it doesn’t apply in real life. I grew up and realized that you can have ‘a brother from another mother’. Especially true of O. He’s my best friend, someone I consider more of a brother than anything else. The point of this post is to remind me that I do, in fact, have a brother. The image to the left is on a boat in St Lucia. I can’t remember why we were on a boat, but we were.

We have recently been talking more and more on the phone over the past month or two, and it has been so nice to hear from him. My goodness, he lives a completely messed up life, but he is getting through it.

He has problems with drinks, drugs, and reckless behavior, but I realized, more now than ever, that it’s lonely out here. I think he was lonely too. So the phone calls help. It’s a mutual thing.

Blood family
Blood family

I can’t quite remember what we spoke about, but it was something that only we understood. Complete savagery, but we both knew what we were trying to say. The photo to the right was taken in the Pancake House in North Wales, a special place we used to go to celebrate pretty much anything. Mum was Dutch, and she liked it there. I think she got a kick out of being able to speak Dutch to someone.

And so I end this short post. The people you see to the right are me, dad, mum, and Day. Now, with Mum and Dad being dead, it’s just us two left now. Well, and my whole family here – B, S, and R.

I think it’s such a strange and magical bond that blood brothers and sisters have. I can be away from them for years, then instantly we are back as if it was only minutes apart.

Blood family

So, I don’t actually know what I was setting out to achieve with this post, but I wanted to say that, in conclusion, I’m a little bit happier being in touch with my brother. Even if it won’t last, it was a welcome ear to listen to each other’s problems and try to solve them.

He is a dickhead. But he’s my blood related dickhead. And despite everything that’s gone on, he is my brother. For all his wrongs, he does have some good in him too.

blood brother
Photo by Kuntal Biswas on Pexels.com