I have been accused in the past of not being a dog person.

This is not true.

My first pet was a beagle and he was the best dog EVER. Well, he must have had some wiener dog in him because his legs were about two inches long and his stomach and ears dragged the ground but still, he was the best dog EVER that ran like a tree sloth because his stomach and ears dragged the ground.

But as an adult, I am basically the whichever-pet-requires-the-least-amount-of-exertion-on-my-part person. Which is why I have cats.

My existence was quite ordered until my teen daughter Shannon brought home a stray beagle-mix pup the other day and, of course, it was going to be put to death if we did not keep it.

We, the Kazek family, were the only ones on the planet who stood between this poor defenseless puppy and certain annihilation.

And, to my relief, Shannon was more than willing to take on ALL the responsibilities herself — feeding, bathing, walking, training … acclimating the puppy to the three cats. Whew. That made me feel so much better.

My cats have the dog-like qualities I need — they come when I call, sleep on my bed, pout when I’ve been out of town — without all that dumb, slobbery dog stuff.

When is the last time you saw a cat sitting at your feet, leash in her mouth, wagging her entire body excitedly, emitting a tiny stream of piddle, until, after eight or nine hours, you feel guilty enough to get up and take her for a walk?

And when did you ever have to take a cat out in the back yard at 2 a.m. when it’s 14 degrees, uttering stupid phrases like “Come on, baby, do your business,” or “Go poo-poo for Mommy,” “Please, please go potty,” — at this point tears have frozen to your face — and finally “You better go or I’m gonna *#!@#” and then the neighbors call the police and it turns into a whole incident that never would have happened if you had an animal that went poo in a litter box.

Cats do not have to sniff the entire square footage of a yard before deciding exactly which spot has the perfect aroma to leave their pee.

They do not have to make a dizzying 18 gazillion circles before they can squat.

Cats do not bite their own tails.

Cats do not learn to stay or sit, for the same reason I don’t — they don’t want to.

However, we have a cat named Butthead, er, Scout, I will admit has a few psychological problems — he loves to eat paper. Shannon was only kid in school who ever had to tell her teacher, “The cat ate my homework.” I was supposed to send a note saying she was telling the truth but Scout ate it.