At the behest of my first wife, we had cats, two at a time, for twenty-five years or so. Hateful, dirty little bastards who sprayed on my cooker-hob, pissed on my kitchen floor, and shat in my borders and buried it for me to get all over my hands much later. They caught and ate birds and mice, and vomited their remains anywhere they chose - frequently on our hearth-rug while we were out.

My second wife and I have had a dog for the past eight years, since I retired. He will only piss in one spot outside, and leaves his shit in plain sight for me to remove without getting it all over my hands. He doesn’t kill things, or eat them, and therefore doesn’t vomit their remains in the house.

He’s a wonderful companion for me during the day, and we walk miles together (being younger than me, my wife works full time, and will continue to for a good number of years), and he’s demonstrated to me the futility and pointlessness of cats.