You never say, "I’m gonna fight you, Steve." You just smile and act natural, and then you sucker-punch him.

I rarely get along with people I don’t like. For me, there are no in betweens: it’s either I hate you or I like you — passionately. Those people whom I nothing means I have no opinion of them to care enough to associate an emotion to them. And no, my dislike for a lot of people is not just plain I-am-better-than-everyone-else-and-their-mothers-combined snobbery. I just happen to have poor judgment when it comes to people. Take Nes, for example, whose first words were “Tangina mo, Mara! Meron din akong t-shirt na yan! (You son of a bitch, Mara. I have that exact same shirt!)” when I walked in to our Biopsych class wearing a Hogwarts crest merchandise t-shirt that she probably got from SM Department Store. She should have made it on my hit list. Initially, that was plan — quick and easy character assassination. So quiet that she’ll never know what hit her. But several occurrences of our prancing around town in our Sto. Nino costumes, and we’re almost twins who got separated at birth. We can read each other’s minds.

So what is a person with poor people-reading skills to do, seeing that she graduated with a Psychology degree, but still does not have enough “How much shall a person piss Mara” gauge? Although a little disclaimer first: Psychology does not teach its students to read people. It teaches how to predict behavior. By predicting behavior, a person’s actions can be assessed, in turn, predict personality. Well the answer is simple, I judge you by your pets.

It’s an age-long cliche that dogs hate cats and vice versa. It is also a long-running email spam that owners take pets that they look similar to. But beyond looks, beyond cliches, your pet/s is who you are.

This certain epiphany came unto me on a caffeine-induced morning of mind-numbing biochemisty journal editing. I was minding my own business, editing gene codes according to house style, contemplating why I hate so many people, and when I say people, some of them are my friends, when it hit me: I don’t get along with cat persons.

Dogs are warm and stinky animals. They are needy yet friendly. I once had a dog who wagged his tail while his executioner shot him in the head and had him for pulutan afterwards. Dogs are loyal as long as they remember that you’re the one who feeds them; it’s Pavlov’s fault (Lipayon, 2008). Dogs are a fountain of endless useless, but you have to admit, amusing, pet tricks. Cats are too proud to be trained. Dogs are boisterous loud beings; cats are stealth. It is scientifically proven that an adult dog’s mental capacity is just the same as a two-year-old human; having a dog is like having a child that doesn’t grow up. Having 5 means having quintuplets.

Cats are prisses who think they are way beyond everyone, even their masters, and have no ounce of affinity to their owners. Unlike dogs who are needy, cats utilize their owners only for food and shelter. You do not see cats bringing its owners slippers and today’s paper when they get home. You have to grovel for a cat’s attention, and when you earn a cat’s affection, only then will it let you touch them. I say they weren’t held enough by their parents when they were younger. Cats have impeccable hygiene, but we all know their poop stinks worse than dogs. Cats will not take a bullet for their owners.

But the point of it all, if you haven’t guessed it from my blatant attack of the other species, is that I am a dog person. People who likes cats rub me the way a too close for comfort officemate does. I am not saying that cat people are generally all around bad people that shouldn’t be trusted because they are uppity and think too highly of themselves. Cat persons are human, too. I may have acquainted myself with a few cat persons, and they are cool, but I woudn’t invite them to my 50th wedding anniversary.

I stick to my people, the dog people – the people who get excited about a trip and then shifts to sadness when they realize there are still 4 months to go before we leave; the people who wake up at 5-freakin’-AM to get ready for work, only to be sidetracked by puppies on their garage, making them 2 minutes late for work for the third time in a week; the people who refer to their dogs as humans and give them human names, making you believe that they have been actually talking about someone you know. These are the people I associate with, the stinky, easily distracted, and too attached to their masters people.

Cats can be nice. You can prove me wrong if you want, or you may not, seeing that you are better than us. But please be warned that I am predisposed to hate you at initial contact.

I know you wouldn’t care, but this is what I’ll watch.

Let’s teach kids to read!

Wind Turbines, FTW! Birds, FTL?

Obama vs. McCain