Dog Person or Cat Person? What It Might Say About You

I’ve had dogs most of my life.

Cats?

Not so much.

Now before the cat lovers gather in the comments and start defending their babies, let me explain myself.

This isn’t one of those conversations where I’m trying to prove dogs are better than cats.

I know plenty of women who absolutely adore their cats.

Some of my friends talk about their cats with the same love, loyalty, and emotional attachment that I have when I talk about dogs.

I respect it.

I just never fully understood it.

And honestly, the older I get, the more I realize that probably says more about me than it does about cats.

I have seen pictures of myself with a cat when I was younger, so apparently there was a cat in my life at some point.

But the memory is fuzzy.

I don’t remember much about feeding it, playing with it, or feeling deeply attached to it.

What I remember is dogs.

I remember walking through the door and being greeted like I had just returned from war instead of the grocery store.

The tail wagging.

The excitement.

The happy little dance.

The way a dog can make you feel like your presence actually matters.

There is something about that kind of welcome that has always touched me.

Maybe because life doesn’t always greet us that way.

People can be complicated.

Relationships can be heavy.

Some days we walk through the door carrying stress, disappointment, bills, worry, and everything we didn’t say out loud.

Then there is a dog, looking at us like we are the best part of the day.

That will do something to a woman.

Dogs have always felt like companions to me.

Cats have always felt more like roommates.

And not always the helpful kind.

More like the roommate who pays no rent, disappears for hours, knocks something off the counter, judges your life choices, then acts like you should feel honored when they finally sit near you. 

I know.

I know.

Cat lovers are probably shaking their heads right now.

But hear me out.

I’ve never been naturally drawn to that kind of relationship.

I already raised four children.

I’ve lived through enough seasons of giving, cleaning, caring, cooking, organizing, worrying, and trying to keep everything together.

At this stage in my life, I don’t need another creature in my home acting like it’s doing me a favor by being there.

I want connection.

I want affection.

I want the feeling that if I’ve been gone all day, somebody noticed.

Dogs seem to understand that assignment.

Cats seem to have their own schedule, their own standards, and their own private emotional policy.

Of course, every cat owner I know tells me I’m wrong.

“They are affectionate.”

“They do miss you.”

“They are loving.”

“They choose their person.”

And maybe they’re right.

Maybe I’ve just never met the right cat. Maybe there is a cat out there somewhere that would change my mind.

But the funny thing is, the reasons people give for loving cats are usually the very reasons I don’t want one.

They love that cats are independent.

They love that cats don’t need constant attention.

They love that cats can entertain themselves.

They love that cats aren’t following them around all day.

They love that cats give them space.

And every time someone says that, I find myself thinking, “See, that is exactly why I want a dog.”

I like the following around.

I like the companionship.

I like the little shadow walking behind me from room to room.

I like knowing someone wants to be where I am, even if I’m only folding laundry or drinking coffee.

The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized this conversation isn’t really about pets.

It’s about personality.

It’s about what kind of connection feels comforting to us.

It’s about how much closeness we crave, how much space we need, and what kind of love feels familiar.

When I think about the women I know, their pet preferences often line up with how they move through life.

Some women love togetherness.

They like a full room, a long conversation, a family gathering, a busy kitchen, and someone sitting close.

They feel most alive when they are connected.

They like being needed.

They like showing up for others.

They enjoy the warmth of people around them.

Other women love quiet.

They need room to breathe.

They enjoy their own company.

They don’t want constant interaction.

They can love you deeply and still need time alone after being around too much noise, too many opinions, and too many needs.

Neither woman is wrong.

Neither one is better.

They are just different.

And if I’m being honest, I think most of us are a mix of both.

I know I am.

The funny part is that I love kittens, just once they become cats they don’t really need us anymore.

I love the affection of a dog, but I also understand needing space more than I used to.

There was a time in my life when I was constantly available.

Always answering.

Always helping.

Always giving.

Always trying to be what everyone needed me to be.

I spent years putting other people’s needs ahead of my own.

I thought that was love.

I thought that was what a good woman did.

I thought being dependable meant being available all the time.

But life has a way of teaching us lessons we didn’t know we needed.

After you have carried enough, given enough, and stretched yourself thin enough, something begins to shift.

You start protecting your peace.

You stop answering every call just because the phone rang.

You stop rushing to explain yourself to people who are committed to misunderstanding you.

You start enjoying a quiet house.

You learn that silence can be peaceful instead of lonely.

You begin to understand that being alone and being lonely are not the same thing.

And that is where I can almost understand cat people now.

Not enough to bring a cat home.

Let’s not get carried away.

But enough to understand the appeal.

There is something admirable about a creature that doesn’t spend its life trying to earn approval.

A cat doesn’t seem to worry about whether everybody likes it.

It doesn’t perform for attention.

It doesn’t beg to be chosen.

It doesn’t chase after affection that isn’t offered.

It walks into a room like it already belongs there.

As women, that is a lesson many of us spend half our lives trying to learn.

We spend years trying to be good enough for everyone.

The good wife.

The good mother.

The good daughter.

The good employee.

The good friend.

The dependable one.

The understanding one.

The one who makes things easier for everybody else.

And somewhere along the way, we can forget that we are allowed to exist without performing.

We are allowed to rest.

We are allowed to have moods.

We are allowed to need space.

We are allowed to be loved without constantly proving our value.

Maybe that is why the whole dog person versus cat person conversation is more interesting than it sounds.

Because it isn’t really about dogs or cats.

It’s about what we recognize.

It’s about what kind of love feels safe to us.

It’s about what we want more of in this season of our lives.

For me, I’ll probably always choose the dog.

Give me the tail wagging.

Give me the excitement when I walk through the door.

Give me the companion who wants to sit beside me while I drink my coffee.

Give me the one who follows me into the kitchen like we are handling serious business together.

Give me the one who looks at me with loyalty in their eyes, even when my hair is a mess, I’m tired, and I’m standing in the middle of the living room wondering why I came in there.

That is my kind of relationship.

I like warmth.

I like closeness.

I like affection that doesn’t make me guess.

I like knowing that love is in the room.

But I can also appreciate why another woman would choose differently.

Maybe she doesn’t want to be followed around because she has spent her whole life being needed.

Maybe she loves cats because they don’t demand from her.

Maybe she enjoys the quiet companionship of an animal that can be near without being under her.

Maybe she sees something peaceful in a relationship that allows both closeness and space.

And honestly, that makes sense too.

Because the older we get, the more we learn that love doesn’t have to look one way.

Some love is loud and excited.

Some love is quiet and steady.

Some love runs to the door.

Some love sits across the room and blinks slowly at you like that is supposed to mean something.

I still may not fully understand cat language, but I’m willing to admit there may be wisdom there.

Maybe the better question isn’t whether we are dog people or cat people.

Maybe the better question is why.

What kind of love are we drawn to?

What kind of connection feels natural?

What kind of relationship feels peaceful?

What does our preference say about the season we are in?

Because sometimes the things we think are random preferences are actually little mirrors.

They show us what we value, what we miss, what we need, and what we are finally learning to give ourselves.

And yes, I’m still a dog person.

Fully.

Happily.

No shame at all.

But I will say this.

If I ever came back as a household pet, I would strongly consider being a cat.

Free housing.

Free food.

Unlimited naps.

No bills.

No pressure to explain my mood.

And the freedom to ignore everybody until I feel like being social.

Now that I think about it, maybe cat people have been onto something all along.

#EvolvingWomanhood