When it comes to the great either/or of pet ownership, I am

"When it comes to the great either/or of pet ownership, I am definitely a cat person." Thus spoke Susanna Reid, broadcaster and voice of clarity, declaring her allegiance in one of humanity’s oldest, most tender divides: the love of cats or the love of dogs. Though her words seem light, they carry an ancient weight, for in choosing between these companions, one reveals not merely preference, but philosophy—how one understands life, independence, loyalty, and love itself.

The ancients themselves walked with both. The Egyptians exalted the cat, weaving its image into temples and tombs, revering it as the companion of the goddess Bastet. To them, the cat was mystery, independence, and divine grace, a creature that chose its affection carefully and moved with the silent authority of the sacred. Dogs, by contrast, were praised by the Greeks, the Romans, and the hunters of old for their loyalty, courage, and tireless companionship. Thus, from the beginning, mankind has lived with this either/or, these two mirrors of our own nature—one reflecting freedom, the other devotion.

To be a cat person, as Reid declares, is to celebrate the virtues of subtlety, patience, and quiet companionship. Cats do not give love on command; they grant it when they will. Their presence teaches us that affection must be earned, that silence is not emptiness but peace, that independence can coexist with intimacy. Those who love cats learn to find joy in small gestures—a slow blink, a soft purr, a fleeting brush against the leg. In this way, cats are not pets only, but teachers, showing us how to embrace stillness and respect boundaries.

History offers examples of this devotion. Cardinal Richelieu, the great French statesman, kept a host of cats in his palace, finding in their quiet company a balance to the chaos of politics. Writers like Mark Twain declared themselves ardent cat lovers, claiming that their wit and imagination were nurtured in the presence of feline independence. For such men, cats were more than companions—they were muses, reminders that true wisdom is often cloaked in silence and mystery.

And yet, Reid calls this choice "the great either/or," reminding us that in this gentle divide, no answer is wrong. For those who choose dogs value steadfast loyalty, constant presence, and shared play. Those who choose cats value autonomy, quiet grace, and selective affection. Each reveals a truth of the human heart. By saying she is a cat person, Reid reveals that her soul leans toward the contemplative, the patient, the respect of individuality over constant devotion.

O children of tomorrow, learn this lesson: in choosing the creatures you walk with, you reveal the rhythms of your soul. Do not mock the choice of others, for in their companions lies their mirror. Whether you walk with dogs or sit with cats, the bond between human and animal is one of the purest forms of love—a love without words, a trust without contracts, a companionship beyond reason.

Therefore, embrace your preference, as Reid does, without shame. If you are drawn to the independence of cats, learn their lessons of patience and mystery. If you are drawn to the loyalty of dogs, honor their lessons of devotion and courage. And above all, treat these companions with kindness, for in caring for them, you learn how to better care for one another.

Thus the teaching of Susanna Reid stands: to say “I am a cat person” is not simply to speak of animals, but to declare an affinity for a way of living—one of quiet strength, independence, and grace. Let us walk in the wisdom of our chosen companions, and through them, learn more deeply who we are.