“If you were an animal, what animal would you be and why?”
I am in a job interview, sweating slightly in my skirt suit. I want to present myself in the best light, but my answer comes easily.
“I’d probably be a domestic cat,” I reply. “I’m pretty independent. I’m also an introvert, so like a cat, sometimes I want to be around people and sometimes I do my own thing.”
The interviewers nod and scribble on a clipboard. If not the most unique or inspiring response, I at least managed to come up with an acceptable answer.
It did seem to fit: I’m a bit of a homebody, I like naps, I like my own space. I would definitely be a domestic animal, not a wild one, cause I’m just not that adventurous. Indoor cats get taken care of, they get to do their own thing, and they get luxuries like temperature controlled housing that I’m quite fond of.
I like being petted and cuddled. I can totally see myself doing that cat thing where they plop on someone’s lap, having decided that they want attention. Then later, they abruptly leave to play with yarn or roll around in a patch of sun, because they’ve had quite enough attention, thank you very much.
I happen to be a lady type person, and cats get coded as feminine and dogs as masculine, even though that’s silly and rather arbitrary. I’m also a cat person; I’d rather own a cat than a dog. I tend to get along with cats better because we understand each other. If anything, I’m probably a cat.
“I think you’re more of a dog,” my boyfriend tells me.
I blink. Nobody’s ever said that to me before, considering my aforementioned general homebody-ness, love for cat naps, and preference for cats as pets.
“What makes you say that?” I ask him.
“Well, you love being petted. You’re obedient. You like being led around on a leash. You love being called a good girl. You’re always excited to see your Master. Heck, you even wag your tail.”
I mull this over in my mind for a long time. All of those are true things. I tend to think of it as “happy butt wiggles,” but admittedly, I do sort of wag my tail when I’m excited. The honorific “Master” has never resonated with me cause I’m just not that into Master/slave, but somehow it’s okay when it’s in a pup context.
I’d never thought of myself as a dog or a puppy. I haven’t done much pet play in my life, being much more drawn to a little girl persona when I’m subby. When I did do pet play in the past, I wasn’t really drawn to a specific animal persona. He does tend to bring out those pup-type traits in me, though. I mentally poke at the idea, wondering how I feel about it.
I guess that’s how I find myself in this position, crawling around on the floor in a collar, with him leading me around by a leash.
“Good girl,” he tells me, and I melt and let out a little whine. I lick his hand and wag my tail, and he chuckles softly, patting me on the head. “What a good girl pup you are.”
I smile, content to sit at his feet and be petted. I’m so happy to get tugged around, and praised for obeying orders, and, best of all, loved on. I nuzzle my head into his lap, thinking that perhaps I’m more of a dog person than I thought I was.