Love me, love my animals

I have been bitching a lot recently. I have complained about the youth of today, the lack of great quality music and my feet hurting — just your general “things that annoy me” stuff. Well not this week. This week I am only going to talk about awesome things, like dogs. I get quite a few questions for this column about my animals. Anyone who knows me well knows that I like animals way more than most people. Believe it or not, my husband and I have five really great dogs (Sunny, Lucy, Toby, Benji and Bentley), a fat cat named Kitty Walker, a 60 pound Sulcata tortoise (Ruby … might be a Rudy, I think I recently saw a turtle penis) and two little Russian tortoises, Sheldon and Amy. I know it sounds like a lot and it is, but it works for my household. I enjoy taking care of my man and my zoo. Talking about my furred and shelled kids always put me in a good mood.

Way back when I was in my 20s, I had my first kid, Dax: He was a golden Pomeranian who changed my life forever. Soon after came the first and only girl I ever fell in love with, Evee. She was a loud mouth little bitch of a Pom whose nickname was Evil. The two of them truly taught me the value of companionship and helped me realize that I was worthy of being loved. They kept me from becoming a bitter single person and helped me recognize love when I found it. If you have a pet, you know what I mean. If not, think about adopting a dog or cat. But only if you can give them the love, time and care that they deserve.

Now let’s help some of you mo-fos.

Dearest Cassie, Let’s talk Stephen Fry. As many know, Fry (57) recently [married] Elliott Spencer (27). For the mathematically challenged, that’s a 30-year age gap. Now I know many say that age is just a number, but there’s more to it, right? Stage of life, changes in the body (my knees stopped working at 40, and that can be kind of important to a gay man), stigma, the inevitable Cher vs. Gaga super diva argument. Now while we, the fabulous people, have navigated the stigma waters before, can it really work? I have a proclivity for the younger variety and find myself asking out guys in their mid- to late-20s, but is that creepy? Is there such a thing as an “appropriate” age gap or should I not give a damn? Can I trust that any millennial is interested in anything more than daddy money? If I read “be under 30” one more time on Grindr, my head might explode. Is it time I hang up my twerking shorts and trade it in for a leather vest? Or is this just another form of discrimination in a community that’s supposed to be about acceptance? — Dirty Old Creeper.

DOC: First off, you seem like your Grindr profile probably says “be under 30” as well. Am I right? Maybe your game would be different if you had lots of coin. There is nothing wrong with being a chicken hawk, but it definitely has its hazards. Relationships are hard enough, especially when you have little in common. Hell, when I was 19, I dated a 35-year-old. The sex was fun but everything else was blah. He liked Perry Mason and bland chicken for dinner; I wanted to go out all the time to dance. We didn’t have enough in common to make a relationship. Second, you can’t fault a guy for saying “be under 30.” You have your preferences, they have theirs. Grindr might not be the best place to find anything other than Mr. Right Now anyway. Third, regarding Stephen Fry and Elliott Spencer, I’m glad those two ugly men found each other. That should give you hope that a big age gap can work. Just lower your standards. I wish them and you a lot of luck, y’all are gonna need it. Just keep an open mind and an open heart and hopefully you will find the right twink with daddy issues. Now as for the Cher vs. Gaga case, they are both awesome. Cassie.

Dear Cassie, So I recently started dating a guy (I’ll call him Luke) that I met two years ago. He is a good friend of your co-worker. I won’t name names — Beyoncè is a private person. Anyway, I ran into Luke in the Rose Room and we exchanged numbers. Big mistake! We began texting the next day. I was off work that day so I was free to text all day. However, when I went back to work and couldn’t text back he started getting very clingy. He tried to make me feel guilty and kept asking if I really liked him. What happened to the days when you actually made a phone call or went out to dinner? I finally had to end it because of how clingy he was being. He called me a piece of shit and said, “This is why you’re single.” Do you think I did the right thing Cassie? Should I have been more understanding? Signed, Frowny face.

Dear FF, I think you both could be better at communication, but yes, you did the right thing. If there is name-calling and paranoia before y’all have even officially gone on a date, then think of the nightmare that y’all would be as a couple. The problem with constantly texting is, you don’t hear sarcasm or how things are said to know how they should be taken. Don’t be afraid to say can we “talk” later. Also if things get weird, don’t be afraid to peace out. Make a point to start the next relationship with actual one on one talking if that is what is important to you. In this world of instant information and short attention spans, it’s easy to move too fast. Slow your roll, and make sure the guy you are interested in knows that is what you want. Cassie.

Dear Cassie, I have always wanted to ask a drag queen if you have ever had someone recognize you and geek out in public. What was your reaction? Is it weird when this happens? Thanks, Joseph.

Yo Jo, that has happened to me many times, but it is my voice that usually gives me away. Recently while getting groceries, the girl in line behind me was staring a hole through me. I can get quite defensive because of the whole “look at that fag” mindset because of my beautifully arched eyebrows. I turned to her and said, “What the fuck are you looking at?” She just smiled and said, “Oh my God, you’re Cassie Nova! I thought that was you but wasn’t sure ’til you yelled at me. I love you.” And on and on. I apologized for cussing at her and thanked her while blushing. I felt like a big shot in the checkout line at the Waxahachie Walmart. Cassie Nova: Superstar!

Now I must go rid my yard of doggie poop. That is the glamorous life of an animal lovin’ drag queen.

Love more. Bitch less and be fabulous. XOXO, Cassie Nova.

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This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition January 23, 2015.