“Fighting like cats and dogs.”
That was one of my dad’s favorite expressions — typically applied to some contentious situation involving a man and a woman, as I recall. He never explained, however, which sex was represented by “the cat,” and which by “the dog.”
When they are fighting like cats and dogs… is the man, “the cat”? Or is it the woman?
I thought someone should make an attempt to answer this pressing question. And since I’m the only person here at the moment, I suppose it’s left up to me.
Not that I’m some kind of expert. I’ve never owned a dog. I once owned a cat — a very soft and silky Turkish Van affectionately named “Snot-rag,” because I liked rubbing my nose in his white fur, To my knowledge, Snottie never in his life got himself into an altercation with a dog. He was a sweet-tempered coward who, when faced with the choice of “fight or flight,” invariably chose the latter option.
But I have occasionally made the acquaintance of felines who seemed to like nothing better than to arrogantly face down a canine, no matter how big the dog might be.
And then we have the situation where a cat and a dog live together in the same house, as fast friends, and get along famously — sleeping in the same bed and even licking each other’s face. I’ve heard rumors that the same situation exists, occasionally, between certain men and women. These are just rumors.
Some commentators would be tempted to define the man as “the dog” because, generally speaking, dogs are larger and heavier than cats — just as men are typically larger and heavier than women, and might appear to have the upper hand, physically.
Also, dogs like to hog the sofa, and lie around doing nothing all day.
This choice would be in error, in my opinion, if we are considering the “fighting like cats and dogs” scenario. The man is almost always “the cat,” and the woman is “the dog.”
Like a loyal canine, the woman is the eternal companion, constantly looking for some way to be helpful — and to be appreciated. When the man is gone to work, his faithful dog sits in the window, eagerly watching for his return. Or, just as eagerly, chewing up his slippers.
The cat, on the other hand, would just as soon be alone — except when, for no apparent reason, he suddenly appears, rubbing your leg and demanding to be fondled. Then he disappears — sometimes for hours, even days, at a time — with no word of farewell. Tell me that doesn’t sound like a man.
Now consider the moment just prior to a fight erupting between a man and a woman. (Or between a dog and a cat.)
The dog (the woman) spies the cat (the man) — over there, minding his own business, looking for some solitary entertainment — and she goes running straight for him, full throttle.
Maybe she just wanted to tell him something — but what does he understand of her intentions? Nothing. They are, after all, totally different species, speaking completely different languages. So the man (the cat) assumes this spirited approach signals an attack of some kind. What else could it be? His back arches, his whiskers bristle…
If only they knew how to communicate.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all.