[img]1325|left|Alex Campbell ||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — I want a cat. No, wait. I want a kitten. If I’m going to go down the path of pet ownership again, I’m going to start with a cute little ball of fluff.
Getting a new feline wasn’t supposed to be on my agenda. See, I’m allergic to cats. Every time I get tested at the allergist’s office, the first hive that shows up always is cat. No question.
[img]1374|left|||no_popup[/img]Back when I used to get allergy shots, I always said that Shelby would be my last cat. I was sure. No more cat hair all over the place. No more kitty litter tracked across the bathroom floor. No more expensive vet visits.
Then our friends got two of the most adorable kittens on the planet. They were fluffy, cute and snuggly. Oh, and get this: hypoallergenic, something about the protein in the saliva. Mom Amy periodically sends me pictures of Zoe and Max so I can be reminded of how much I want balls of fluff.
It’s been 7 months since Shelby died. I must admit, I like leaving the door open when I go to get the Sunday paper. Our clothes are furless. Our bank accounts, while not fat, are slightly plumper without vet visits.
But I miss cuddling on the couch. I want to look at something so cute my heart melts. I want someone to greet me at the door after a long day. Wait, maybe I just want a husband. Working on that. This is about a cat.
It would be hard to replace Shelby; she was more like a dog than a cat. She didn’t jump up on things. She didn’t scratch anything except the doormat and her designated scratcher. If she wanted attention, she’d come up to you and tell you. She went to bed when we went to bed, and got up when we did.
I had a cat once who would knock things down when she wanted attention. Annoying, and expensive. Another cat would place herself on my lap and put her paw on my wrist. Cute, huh? If I moved my arm as if to get up, she’d dig her claws ever so slightly into my wrist as a warning. If I didn’t listen and got up anyway, she’d bite me.
I had another cat who would let you do whatever you wanted. I used to pick him up and drape him across my shoulders, pretending we were a circus act. We played hide and seek. I don’t think he knew what the word “bite” meant; as my mom would say, “He’s a lover, not a fighter.”
So you get what you get. We’re thinking about getting a kitten, once we save up the $1,000 it would cost to get one with fancy protein. In the meantime, I have a wedding to plan. I’ll cuddle with my fiancé on the couch, and be thankful that he is well behaved.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
