Kitty fix

This is day 4 without the kids and I'm starting to miss them. The first three days I was gleeful. That was the only word for it. Glee - ful. Nobody making messes right behind me as I cleaned up, nobody complaining, nobody bugging me to entertain them. But now I'm getting lonely. I might go to Animal Allies today to pet some cats. That always makes me feel better. I'd have a cat if it wasn't for Mr. Allergic (Mitch).

When we were first married he told me he was allergic to cats. "Yeah, right" I said. "If you don't want to get a cat just say it, and we won't get a cat, you don't have to feign illness, for pete's sake." Drama queen.

A few years later, when I was working as a teacher, I was walking through the parking lot on my way to my class. I think it was November, anyway, it was COLD. I heard what I thought was a baby crying so, of course, I looked all over the place, and I found a cute little cat crying under a bench. I had my own portable building where I taught, and it was just my 20 students, another teacher and me, so I brought the cat in out of the cold. The little kitty was so grateful and happy to be warm. The kids LOVED her and she turned out to be a great calming influence on our class. PERFECT, I thought. Then two days later when school started, a kid who had been absent for the past several days came in, sniffed the air and said, "Is there a cat in here?" I said, "YES! She's our new class pet, isn't she cute?" and I picked her up from under my desk and hugged her. The kid said, "I have to go home and take my pills." Apparently he was deathly allergic to cats and had to race home before his throat totally closed shut.

The kitty had to go, so I decided to take her home with me. I knew Mitch didn't want to have a cat around, but he could put up with it for a few days. Just in case he was telling the truth about the allergies, Sam and I gave her a bath. Now she was all fresh and clean and perfect. Sam and I couldn't take our eyes off her! She was so cute and so funny and sweet and playful.

After a few hours of playing with our new pet, I happened to glance over at Mitch. Mr. Passive Aggressive was puffy. No, that's not nearly descriptive enough. He was swelled like I've never seen anyone swell. His hands were round, like pin cushions. His eyes were almost completely shut. I said, "OH MY GOD, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" He said, "Well... it's getting kind of hard to breathe." I said, "Why didn't you tell me this was happening?" He said, "I did tell you. When we first got married."

I called my friend and asked her if she could take the cat. Thankfully she said she would. I dropped Mitch off at the hospital (drama queen) and then regretfully brought the cat to my friend's house. I still miss her, and now that I know I absolutely can't have a cat, I kind of want one, so every now and then I go and pet cats at the animal shelter.

Then I come home and rub my shirt all over Mitch's pillow. He's not the only one who's passive aggressive.