I’ll out myself straightaway: I’m not a big fan of dogs.

Sure, they can be awfully cute. The term “puppy-dog eyes” was coined for a reason, right? Their propensity for performing tricks and tasks really is quite impressive. Their heroism with law enforcement and the military is nothing to sneeze at, either.

But for as long as I can remember, I’ve loved cats a heck of a lot more. Let me count the reasons why:

First, they’re cuter than dogs — yes, I said it. Big or small, sleek or fluffy, cats simply are stunning creatures. Cleopatra’s signature look wasn’t dog-eye liner, after all.

It’s not just their appearance. Cats are among the most graceful animals out there. I could watch my late tabby, Scruffy, or my parents’ current tabby mix, Lucy, saunter or leap all day. Have you ever seen a cat wriggle effortlessly through a tiny opening or settle itself into a vessel many times smaller than it? Fascinating and irresistible.

While cats don’t take easily to tricks, they are capable of something far superior: doing their business in a box and then covering it up. Humans might still have to scoop it, but at least we don’t have to touch it.

They’re even self-cleaning, which I rarely see dogs do. Granted, this means you don’t necessarily want their tongue near your face, but it saves you the trouble of bath times that can become messy and potentially bloody (for you, that is, when the cat realizes that it’s about to get dunked in water).

People will argue that cats are aloof and stingy with their affection; I say those people just haven’t met the right cat.

While some felines will ignore you until they want attention or food, others will lie down in your lap and wait to be nuzzled.

It’s true that cats have claws that can dig deep; their fanglike teeth can be fearsome, too. But I would rather risk cat scratches than a dog bite, which I nearly suffered when I was a kid. One of my sharpest memories is of getting chased by angry dogs in my grandma’s yard — if it weren’t for my uncle, I’m certain I would have been bitten.

So there’s context for my canine disdain: I’ve always associated dogs with loud barking and the threat of a chomp on the leg.

But — and you knew there’d be a but — it’s always possible to change.

My boyfriend, Kevin, has custody of his sister’s dog, Tonks the papillon, while she works on the mainland. (Dakota the sheltie was also in the mix, but he died last year.) Getting to know Kevin meant getting to know the dogs, too, and fortunately they turned out to be gentle and loving creatures.

Perhaps the reason Tonks and I get along is because he acts, well, like a cat. He grooms himself, ignores us and then demands attention, and is always ready for a meal.

Or perhaps I just have to admit that dogs aren’t so bad after all.

“She Speaks” is a weekly column by women writers of the Honolulu Star-Advertiser. Reach Celia Downes at cdownes@staradvertiser.com.