The phone…

… rang as I was driving out of a parking garage the other day.

I pulled into a handy space and answered thinking it was someone from work.

Nope. It was my dermatologist.

“We have your allergy blood test results.” the caller says. I’ve been waiting to discover the result because I’d like to stop itching this century. “Your food battery was clear, so that’s good.” She continued.

“Environmental…” she pauses as if she’s reading down the list, “Cats, or really, Cat Dander and Common Ragweed.”

I kind of nodded my head even though she couldn’t see me, choked out a “Thanks for calling,” and immediately burst into tears.

Me. Allergic to cats.

How ironic.

I love my cats. They’re my buds. They watch TV with me. They sleep with me. Sometimes, they eat with me. They sit in my lap while I work from home. They’re my companions and I love them.

I don’t know what the solution is just yet, but I won’t let them go no matter how much Inkblot tries to make me think she abhors my company while she sits on the couch with me, then follows me to my desk, then follows me upstairs – always at a distance that would make it difficult for me to touch her. And Ember? Sheesh, I came home the other day after a night away and she came running down the stairs letting out a joyous “Meow!” every time she came down another step.

Shots? I’ll do it. Benadryl every day? No problem. Re-homing my cats? Nope.

So, not to worry faithful fans of Ember’s antics. My furry Feline Friday inspirations aren’t going anywhere.


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