I think I have a mouse.
Last night, just before I went to bed, I had to go do something in my kitchen, and while there, I encountered what looked like some sort of cult meeting. Annie was staring at the floor beneath the cabinets under the sink. BK was sitting directly behind her doing the same. Wally was sitting directly behind BK. And Beaver... well, he was off in another room unbothered, as is typical for him, but it was the most bizarre sight.
Of course, these creatures are cats — BK stands for Black Kitty — and it finally occurred to me that they'd probably seen a mouse and were waiting for it to return. It happens. I live in an older house in the woods.
It also made me laugh, as I do often, at the fact that I, a lifelong dog person, currently have zero dogs but four cats living in my home.
Dogs vs. cats is an age-old debate that can get as heated as some Republican vs. Democrat back-and-forth.
But as it turns out, Team USA is also Team Dog. According to the American Veterinary Medical Association, in 2025, 42.6% of households in the United States owned dogs, while just 32.6% owned cats. For what its worth, fish came in third at 2.6%, followed by reptiles, birds, and small mammals like hamsters. Horses and poultry rounded out the list.
There is some history behind why the United States prefers dogs. Back in the earliest days of our country, the pioneers relied on dogs for security, whether for themselves or their livestock. They were essential working members of the family.
There may be some psychology behind why we red-blooded Americans prefer dogs, too. Dog owners tend to be more extroverted than cat owners — as an introvert myself, I can't relate to that, but overall, I'd say the U.S. is pretty extroverted. Dog owners are also tougher and focus more on practical situations rather than relying on emotions. And those who prefer dogs tend to be more organized, energetic, and friendly. We're also more competitive, positive, and tend to have more dominant personalities.
On the other hand, cat owners tend to be more neurotic, creative, shy, and curious. They're also more progressive and open to new ideas.
Here's something I found kind of interesting: Dog owners tend to have more sex. However, when a dog owner is upset, they're more likely to turn to their pets for comfort, while cat owners turn to friends. But that tracks — I prefer my dogs (when I have them) to 99% of the people I know.
Having either pet can improve your health — that's a scientific fact — but dogs may have the edge. Of course, dog owners typically get more exercise, but a 2023 Japanese study found that dog owners are less likely to develop issues like Alzheimer's and dementia. That said, for older people, having either type of pet as a companion, especially if they live alone, can help decrease the risk of cognitive decline.
One reason why many people — not just in the United States, but around the world in countries that do not mistreat animals — prefer dogs is because it's easier to bond with them. They feel more like part of the family and we treat them as such, letting them sleep in our beds, travel with us, and share our food.
As a matter of fact, it's because of this that pet owners play an important role in our economy. In the U.S. alone, the pet industry supports 2.78 million jobs and contributes $260.5 billion to the economy and $174 to our annual gross domestic product. I can only speak for myself, but I think in 2024 alone, I spent thousands on my elderly dog's health, yet I only bought myself a bottle of Tylenol and some vitamins all year.
So, now that we've verified that Americans prefer dogs — and, let's face it, dogs are better... — I, once again, find myself wondering why in the heck I have four cats and zero dogs. Here's how that happened. I swear they multiply.
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In 2016 or so, my family was going through a rough period. My mom's health was failing, she ended up on dialysis, and on top of that, my oldest dog and best friend, Gabby, had just died too. I needed something young and fun around my house that didn't require a lot of effort. I ended up adopting two half-Siamese kitten sisters, Lily and Annie.
Well, I have two cats now. It's a pandemic. pic.twitter.com/Gb3d9JmTVk
— SarahDownSouth (@SarahDownSouth) December 23, 2016
I've had Annie for almost 10 years now, and you'd think she's feral. I can go days without seeing her, and the last time I picked her up, I ended up with scratches all over my face and chest. Every once in a while, she'll approach and let me pet her, but only for a few seconds and under her terms. Lily was the total opposite. She craved attention like a little dog. She's the one who taught me cats weren't so bad. Sadly, she got very sick a few years ago. Losing her was devastating to me, and especially to Annie, as they'd been together all their lives.
A few months or so after Lily died, Annie was not doing well on her own. Around that time, the same charity I'd adopted Annie and Lily from had the prettiest cat, and I decided I'd go inquire about her. Sadly, I was a few minutes too late. Another lady and her daughter were adopting her when I arrived, but as I was walking out, I saw this scrawny black kitten all alone in a cage. I felt so bad for her — all the others had companions.
She wasn't all that cute, even for a tiny kitten, and it seemed like everyone was ignoring her. Her name was "Gypsy," and the night before I'd decided I was going to name the other cat something Fleetwood Mac-esque. Maybe this was a sign? The little card on her cage said she'd been found abandoned in the woods in the rain, near death, and a hunter had rushed her to the shelter when she was only two weeks old. A kitten with a Southern Gothic background and a Fleetwood Mac name? This is my cat.
The staff asked me a million times if I was sure I wanted the kitten, which should have been a sign in itself.
One of the ladies took her out of the cage and before she knew it, the little cat was attached to her hair. "You better buy a lot of toys. This one likes to play," she said unconvincingly as she tried to untangle her and put her in my carrier. Long story short, I got that kitten home, and I immediately understood why no one wanted her. She was bad. She's mean as hell. I thought she was the devil. She bit, hissed, scratched, and spit, and got into everything she could. She never sat still. I spent months with bloody arms and legs. I even had to keep her in a tent for a while when she couldn't be supervised because she seemed determined to kill everyone, including herself.
Annie would look at me like, "This is the best replacement for Lily you could find?"
Fortunately for this little black cat who never quite got a proper name, animals who come to live with me are generally here for life. Annie, my dad, and I have learned to accept the Black Kitty for the little monster she is. Truth be told, she's my favorite now.
And the last two to join the crew were another package situation. Someone in my neighborhood inadvertently started a stray cat colony a few years ago, and last summer, one of them was hit by a car. The problem is she had a litter of three-month-old kittens, and two of them somehow ended up living under my barn. I heard them meowing for days when I'd go out to feed the other animals, and after a while, I guess they were so hungry that they decided to show themselves — two desperate, weak, scrawny baby boys with eye infections, covered in fleas, eaten up with worms, and on their last leg.
I started feeding them, and they got healthy fast. Once they became friendlier, they let me doctor them. They slept with my chickens at night, and they were doing a perfectly fine job of keeping rodents out of my barn, which was a plus.
But then it got cold, and my dad, who'd named them Wally and Beaver after his favorite TV show characters, felt bad for them being outside. He started bringing them in to sleep in the laundry room at night. Within a month or two, they were living in the house. And these little fellas who kept the rodents out of my barn seem completely uninterested in keeping the tiny mouse out of my kitchen. That outdoor barn cat life is not for them anymore.
But Annie, who could never quite find the companionship she craved with the black cat, adores them, so I guess it's a win-win for everyone.
I have to get a dog again. These things are multiplying. 😅 pic.twitter.com/Ut2gAM4rmi
— SarahDownSouth (@SarahDownSouth) February 1, 2026
All that said, I'm still getting a new dog or two this year — I've now gone 13 months without one for the first time since I was in kindergarten. They will all just have to coexist. I am still firmly Team Dog, even if a handful of dumb cats have won me over.
What about you, dear PJ Media readers? Team Dog or Team Cat? Let me know in the comments.
