THE CAT'S MEOW
I'm a dog person. As has been discussed in this space in the past, I like my dog more than I like a lot of people, so it should come as no surprise that, were I asked to choose sides in a dispute, I'd favor the dog over the cat any day of the week. Now this is not to say that I'm somehow anti-cat. I want to clear up that potential misconception right away. I'm certainly friendly with cats, have been known to own a cat or two (though more often than not, the ownership seemed to be by the cat herself) and occasionally play with cats. It's just that if I'm stuck on a deserted island, and I only get to take one pet, my choice is going to be a dog.

The world is, as best I can tell, pretty well evenly split over the issue of dogs versus cats. It seems like everyone I know is either a dog person or a cat person, with the possible exception of my friend Rick Wallach down in Miami who has a pet ferret, but I've always felt like ferrets were more-or-less dogs anyway, so I'm putting Rick in the dog camp.

So we've got these two camps, the dog people and the cat people. It's kind of like "West Side Story," just without the whole Romeo and Juliet thing going on. And any time you've got two rival gangs, you're going to have some disagreements, which seems to be the case in this arrangement. Dog people are pretty much sure that dogs are the best, while cat people couldn't disagree any more if they really tried.

Our angling writer understands cat naps better than he does cats.

Now, by my very nature, I'm something of a peacemaker. I'm kind of like Switzerland that way. Seriously. Ask my mother. Actually, don't ask Mom, because she probably doesn't want to seem biased towards my other brothers. Just believe me when I tell you that I'm the truce-seeker in the family, and I was the one always trying to make peace rather than war. And it was with that in mind that I set out to try to make peace between the dog people and the cat people of the world. But I figured out pretty quickly that this would be impossible, given that there are something like six billion people on the planet. So I decided to tweak my game plan.

Rather than trying to make peace, I tried to understand my adversary. I researched cats and studied their behaviors. I tried to become a cat. In a weird sort of way, I was like Carl in "Caddyshack" with the gopher, but I digress. So there I am, trying to be a cat, trying to see the world through a cat's eyes, and suddenly it hit me like a lightning bolt from out of a blue sky.

Cats are, quite possibly, the world's perfect little anglers.

And I don't care if you've got a dog, a cat, a Vietnamese pig or one of those yellow-headed birds, I think we can all agree on the segue as one of the more important transitional devices around.

Friends and neighbors, it's true. Cats are, without question, cut from the same cloth as we anglers the world over. For instance, take a walk through Geronimo's one day and just check out the cat section. Disregard the easy one - one of Jan's cats is actually named Fish - and instead focus on the more sublime elements of the selection of offerings. Notice anything? That's right. Cats have got more toys available to them than is humanly imaginable. Now take a stroll through Bill Fisher's tackle shop. Notice anything similar? Right again. Lots and lots of toys, some of them even attached to the end of a string and a few with feathers. To make a long story short - for those of you who missed the connection there - cat toys and fishing accoutrements are birds of a feather, so to speak.

And if you're still not convinced, consider the way a cat stalks its prey. Single-minded purpose, stealth and concentration are the hallmarks of the hunting cat. Now think about going out after striped bass in the spring. Out on the water at the crack of dawn, fishing with no leaders, quiet presentation. All-in-all, it reminds me a lot of watching a cat hunt a bird. And if you're not seeing it, concentrate harder and try to visualize. Trust me. It's there.

If you still find yourself waffling about this whole subject, just think about Heathcliff (the cartoon cat, not the downtrodden lover wandering around an Emily Bronte novel). Whenever I get confused, I turn to the comics. Usually it's "Dilbert," but occasionally I need more insight, at which point I expand my horizons. And every once in a while, if I'm reading the right paper, I can find Heathcliff, who is, almost always, outside a fish shop, ogling the offerings through the window. That's right, kids. Cats love fish. At least Heathcliff does, which is good enough for me.

And finally, the piéce de résistance. There is the similar attitude that cats share with anglers everywhere, an attitude that could very well evolve into a mantra for yours truly:

When all else fails, find a little patch of sun and take a nap.

Tight lines. I