As allergy sufferers know, this season's been particularly bad. My daughter and I have been
dosed by our respective physiscians with enough corticosteroids to dry up the Mississippi basin.
Despite these heroic efforts, we're always "on the edge." One tiny challenge to our
hair-trigger immune systems can easily bust a hole in our shaky pharmaceutical dykes.
My levee burst at about 4 am when Pumpkin, our evil cat, apparently decided she wanted to fall
asleep on her favorite piece of endothermic furniture, namely me. She first sat on my head, providing
my eyes, sinuses and upper respiratory system with a more than moderate dose of fur and dander.
She then moved on to the only exposed human body part on the bed- my
lower right leg. As she settled into place, I apparently startled her by sneezing. She attempted to
maintain her stability in the cute way cats do, by extending her quasi-lethal, razor-like
claws quite firmly into my calf.
My leg jerked upward in a powerful reflex action, catapulting the accursed feline into the bed's
headboard, where her trajectory was modified in such a way that she was deposited into a mass of
sleeping shelties Who Were Not Amused.
Somehow the rest of the household remained unconscious during the festivities, which involved
nearly a half-dozen small furry mammals cascading down the steps in high dudgeon, accompanied by a
greater mammal using the dark, unpleasant part of his vocabulary in an extended, hissed exhalation
that thankfully did not involve the larnyx. In the meantime,
my calf started erupting in hives and producing an itching sensation reminiscent of the chest-bursting
scene in Alien.
So, at 4:10 am, I'm downing prednisone pills like M&Ms, slathering hydrocortisone cream on
my leg, giving myself an albuterol treatment and squirting naphazoline in my eyes. The dogs are under
my desk, alternately cowering in fear and growling at the cat, who, given the supremely narcissistic
tendencies of her species, is lying on the spare office chair, staring at me in dull curiosity
through drooping eyelids.
Going to church won't be of any help. I recently joined the Unitarians, so I can no longer invoke
the wrath of some supernatural being to rain down flaming justice on those who afflict me.
I'll just have to settle for extreme grumpiness for the balance of the day.
And wheezing.
You've been warned.
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