It’s an old-age question which has been asked and pondered over by Mankind across the eons of civilised time - Cats versus Dogs: which would be victorious? Not literally of course as that would just be a mass of shredded fur, oily guts and bloody phlegm; just in the sense of which of the two mammalian options would you choose to align yourself with if your life depended upon it. Both are furry, both have sharp teeth, both have claws - although just one could sever an artery and the other just annoys when skating across a wooden floor - and both show a high level of intelligence which we choose to ignore mostly and instead film the two species doing the most hilariously stupid things in order to upload onto the Internet where fans of each one froth excitedly in their favouritism.
There’s the problem you see. The majority of people will choose to come down on the side of their preferred pet, so the Feline or Canine gets an equal split which exacerbates the situation. Indeed, there are a minority who pick both species to co-habit in their houses but this usually ends in the previous paragraph’s description of fur, guts and phlegm, only all spread over a newly purchased leather settee with 0% interest and nothing to pay for six months, thus ruining it before a penny’s even been paid. So, as a way of trying to address this unbalanced balance, let’s take a closer look at the nation’s two favourite bloody household additions shall we?
The Cat is an evolutionary design of sublime, untamed savagery with an unequalled mastery of the stealth attack, feared by birds and small mammals everywhere due to its unsheathed, razor-sharp ferocity. Owners don’t accept that their little cuddly fur-ball is anything but a playful, lazy addition to the household, a little rascal to be marvelled at when it utters a “Meow” in their direction for food, which results in an embarrassing display of high-pitched utterances by the tin-holder due to being convinced the cat is actually speaking to them and they can converse back via inter-species gibberish.
But in these times of economic strife, people will try and make money from anything they can, including the family pet, but it’s time to forget about the staple of such illegal regular money-makers as dog fighting. The new betting frenzy that’s raised its ugly head in these Recession-weighted times revolve around cat fights, which are now being run in the deprived, rundown areas abound in our smashed society. This has nothing to do with a weekend down the local High street with hordes of paralytic girls clashing in a maelstrom of heels, nails and vomit, we’re talking about Tiddles and Fluffy being forced to fight in a 6 foot diameter sunken pit, usually held in secret behind the doors of a disused warehouse or pub cellar somewhere. Large quantities of money exchange hands during these face-offs and as such, the audience comprises a wide slice of modern Britain: from the lowly runner whose job it is to check the sex of the cats, through to the organisers that skim from the winners’ pot and finally to the local gangsters who follow any sport which sheds blood.
Both felines wear their collars during this display of arched backs and the tinkling of the bells appears to induce some form of apoplectic ranting within the spectators, who end up drowning out even the screeching of the cats with their vocal baiting for their individual favourite. Each battle lasts for a predetermined length of just one minute and although this may seem short, there’s enough time for both cats to suffer greatly. The time spell is kept short due to the fact that many of the animals are family pets and so, in order to avoid the irate rage of a spouse or the teary cheeks of children, the cat owners’ can return home and explain away the torn ears and the like as territorial injuries incurred during a night outside. You see, that's the beauty of the cat: curiosity might have killed a few but they've got nine lives to play around with, so they always land on their paws in the end.
Dog’s, as we all know, are descended from Wolves and they still carry its ancestor’s gene, hence the need to dwell within a pack hierarchy and no matter how many lines of breeding there may be, this primordial beast within remains just beneath their furry coats. So, if we naturally accept the nature of the Wolf within our doggies, then what about the unspoken knowledge which people choose to ignore? Of course I’m referring to the Werewolf bloodline which courses through even the most placid of dog’s veins, no matter whether it’s a Doberman or a Jack Russell. Most owners will be blissfully unaware of this connection due to the fact the majority of their dogs are curled up asleep indoors when a full-moon comes around, thus keeping the lycanthrope feeding frenzy at bay. Also, with us shovelling all manner of free food down their continually ravenous gullets, we are obviously negating becoming a possible snack for our otherwise friendly, tail-wagging companion. Just remember to keep something made from silver at hand for when the inevitable happens...
I’ve never come across a cat named “Killer” but there are plenty of dogs with similar monikers: indeed, I got to find out the name of a big English Bull Terrier which was called just plain “Balls” as this was all I heard the dog’s owner shouting as, thankfully, it unsuccessfully tried to rip mine off. Also, can we ever forget the 1976 original film version of The Omen and its graveyard scene? The Rottweiler will never be looked on the same once you’ve witnessed Gregory Peck and David Warner’s terror as the “Devil Dogs” round on them, attempting to tear them limb from limb on orders from Satan himself. Surely if any animal has a direct line to Beelzebub and does the odd job for him, that moot point alone is enough to stay clear of all dogs for as long as your lungs can absorb air.
My biggest fear are Alsatians; just as a complete exercise in unpredictability, their half dead fish-eyes and slathering tongue running across a mouth full of jagged fangs chill me to the bone and s**t the living soul out of me. However, what’s worse than a pack of the damn things is a single male Alsatian in heat, its hackles raised, ready and willing to mate with anything, which now includes yourself, as its pheromone-induced arousal becomes worryingly close to your rear. You have not got the faintest idea of the outcome from meeting its gaze, a problem now multiplied due to making eye contact and becoming a challenger to its randy intentions, so you are now facing off for the right to mate with yourself! From now on, the confused situation is whether the growling dog’s going to rip out your throat or bugger you senseless or even worse, perhaps both. That's the thing with dogs: each one's a Wolf in Sheep's clothing and their barks can be as worse than their bites, even though they're Man's best friend and possibly Woman’s as well.
As you can probably tell, personally I’m in the cat’s corner and adore their “purr-fectness”, which means I have no time for the continually wanton dog in this equation, although my personal opinion is made irrelevant now due to some Scientists’ latest contentious view. They believe that owning a cat or a dog is as damaging to the planet as running a mid-sized car or an off-road vehicle respectively, that have travelled a few thousand miles, which is ironic really considering as species they’ve been around millennia without the Earth imploding. The White Coats have even coined a new phrase to add to the climate-change lexicon that makes most of us worry ourselves to death over when faced with the planet’s expected life span: “Carbon Paw-Print”. Well, I’m pretty sure a farting feline or a trumping canine won’t make a heap of beans difference to our tenacious reign over this green and pleasant land, although perhaps we may have just found the beginning kernel for humanity’s future enjoyment and betting material - Cats vs. Dogs: which will be the ultimate Wind Warrior?