Owners of dogs will have noticed that, if you provide them with

Host: The afternoon sun spilled through the half-open blinds, striping the floor in gold and shadow. A lazy cat lay sprawled across the sofa, its tail twitching with imperial indifference, while a dog slept at its feet, its breathing slow, trusting, and content. The apartment smelled faintly of coffee, books, and rain-soaked earth — the kind of stillness that only Sundays seem to permit.

Jack sat by the window, coffee in hand, eyes tracing the movement of the cat as it blinked at him with what felt like contemptuous amusement. Across the room, Jeeny smiled, kneeling to stroke the dog’s head, her fingers gentle, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeeny: “You see that? The dog just wants to be near. You give it a touch, and it thinks the world is safe again.”

Jack: “Yeah. Meanwhile, your cat there is plotting the next dynasty.”

Jeeny: (laughing) “That’s the difference, isn’t it? Dogs worship; cats rule.”

Jack: “Exactly what Hitchens meant. We keep dogs to feel divine and cats to be humbled. One reminds us of our power, the other of our irrelevance.”

Host: The light shifted, flickering across the walls as the curtain moved with a breeze. A record played softly in the background, some old jazz piece crackling with memory. The cat yawned, stretching like a queen, while the dog rolled to its back, offering its belly with absolute trust.

Jeeny: “But don’t you find it beautiful, Jack? How trust like that still exists in a world that’s always suspicious? The dog doesn’t ask for proof or status — it just believes.”

Jack: “That’s not beauty, Jeeny. That’s dependency. The dog doesn’t trust because it’s noble — it trusts because it has no choice. Feed it, pet it, and it’ll kneel. That’s not faith, it’s conditioning.”

Jeeny: “Then what about the cat? You’d rather have a creature that accepts everything as its due — that thinks it’s the center of the universe?”

Jack: “I’d rather have one that doesn’t need me. Independence is dignity, Jeeny. The cat teaches you that affection doesn’t mean submission. It chooses you — and that’s what makes it real.”

Host: The cat leapt from the sofa, landing with silent grace, its eyes two slices of amber light. It moved between them, pausing, as though to judge the conversation, before curling again near the window. The dog watched, ears tilted, tail tapping the floor in a slow, rhythmic thump.

Jeeny: “Real? So you’re saying the dog’s love isn’t real because it’s loyal?”

Jack: “I’m saying loyalty isn’t virtue when it’s blind. Look at history — dictators have always had their faithful followers, people who obeyed because they were grateful for a meal and a flag. The dog’s heart is pure, but it’s also dangerous — because it can be used.”

Jeeny: “That’s a cruel comparison, Jack.”

Jack: “Cruel, maybe, but true. Affection without thought is just obedience wearing a smile.”

Jeeny: “And independence without connection is just loneliness pretending to be pride.”

Host: A tension rose between them — not of anger, but of understanding meeting resistance. The rain outside began to drum faintly against the glass, as though the sky were eavesdropping.

Jeeny: “You always defend detachment, Jack. But what’s so wrong with devotion? To love someone or something so much that you trust them — even if it’s foolish?”

Jack: “Because trust without reason is a surrender. You give someone the power to hurt you. The dog loves its master even if he beats it. That’s not love, Jeeny — that’s dependence in disguise.”

Jeeny: “Maybe. But the dog also forgives. It keeps loving even when it’s hurt. That’s something humans have almost forgotten how to do.”

Jack: “And the cat reminds us that self-respect must come first. That’s what Hitchens was laughing at — we humans want both: to be worshiped and to worship. The dog feeds our ego; the cat feeds our humility.”

Jeeny: “Or our arrogance. Because in the cat, we see our own delusion — that we’re the center of everything. That’s what makes it so ironic, Jack. You admire the cat because it’s like you.”

Jack: (smiling faintly) “And you love the dog because it’s like you.”

Host: A quiet laugh escaped them both. The dog stirred, stretching, while the cat glared, as if offended by the sound of joy.

Jeeny: “Maybe we need both. Faith and freedom. The dog teaches us how to trust, the cat how to doubt.”

Jack: “And somewhere between the two lies the human condition — praying to a God one moment, playing God the next.”

Jeeny: “Yes. And that’s the tragedy, isn’t it? That we’re forever torn between the need to bow and the urge to rule.”

Jack: “The paradox of every civilization. The Egyptians had their cats as gods, the Romans their dogs as servants. Maybe that’s why no empire lasts — because we never choose which creature we want to be.”

Host: The rain had stopped, leaving the window streaked with silver. The city beyond was quiet, soaked, gleaming. Jeeny stood, walked to the window, and watched the reflection of the cat beside her — proud, poised, indifferent.

Jeeny: “Do you ever wonder, Jack, if we created God in the image of a dog or a cat?”

Jack: “That’s the best question you’ve asked all day.”

Jeeny: “Well?”

Jack: “If God is a dog, He forgives. If He’s a cat, He waits for us to understand.”

Jeeny: “Maybe He’s both — love that forgives, and silence that tests.”

Host: The cat lifted its head, its eyes reflecting the streetlight like two coins of fire. The dog sighed, its tail thudding once against the floor, as if in agreement.

For a moment, neither Jack nor Jeeny spoke. They simply watched the two creatures — one devoted, one detached — sharing the same room, the same warmth, the same quiet truth.

Jeeny: “Maybe that’s the lesson, Jack. That love doesn’t have to look one way. It can kneel or stand, follow or walk away — as long as it sees.”

Jack: “And maybe God, if He’s watching, doesn’t mind which one we are — as long as we feed each other once in a while.”

Host: The clock ticked, steady as a heartbeat. The light from the window had turned pale, cool, the sun slipping into evening.

The cat closed its eyes, dreaming of empire.
The dog slept, dreaming of home.

And in that tiny, silent, living room, two souls sat between them — wondering which dream was closer to the truth.