Monday, September 15, 2008

Rescue me

For the past few months I've been on the quest for a pet. Something furry that would run and play and also be cool hanging on its own. I developed a bit of an obsession with French Bulldogs and found a breeder down in Florida. I quickly came to the conclusion, however, that (1) Florida was too far to travel to get a puppy and (2) getting a puppy would be like adopting a small child. I work too much to ensure it gets outside to do its puppy business in a timely manner.

Suddenly I found myself in a Petsmart (I'd like to say tricked, but I did go willingly). After two kittens waiting for adoption melted in my arms, I was suddenly filling out an adoption application and purchasing litter boxes. The monsters came home with me and took over my apartment.

I've had a cat before (in a 6 bedroom house with two living rooms), so I felt with a little daily Benedryl I could manage my allergies. Two cats in a studio apartment brought different results. lungs slowly betraying my body. At first, leaving my apartment in the mornings for work brought relief. Soon even escaping the vicinity of the monsters didn't help. It became bad enough that I made an appointment with my doctor*. He prescribed an emergency inhaler and rethinking the kittens. Four days later and I was getting no better. My asthma was progressively worsening. By Labor day walking from my 4th floor apartment to the first floor left me feeling like I ran a marathon. I wasn't getting enough oxygen, and I couldn't take it anymore.

Allie took me to the emergency room, where they gave me a breathing treatment and lots of steroids. As I was lying in the hospital bed with a breathing mask over my face, I came face to face with what my grandmother goes through every day. Someone slips that mask on her face twice a day so that she can breathe easier. Every day she fights for breath that I take for granted.

The monsters had to go back. I had bonded to them, but I just couldn't take it anymore. I spent 3 days away from home (sending others to feed them), and on the fourth day, Steven came and helped me return the monsters to their foster person. I guess I'm just not meant for furry, cuddly pets.

*I don't do doctors, so you know I feel bad when I go to them.

1 comment:

  1. Boooo, cats suck!

    You should take my recommendation of getting a pet rock.