I’m starting to think of that nasty, germ-infested mouse quite affectionately. Gross as it was, it may have had one uninteded consequence. M and I both commented that if ever there was a time we wished we had a cat, that was it. Then we laughed because we know it’s basically impossible for us to get a cat.
I had a cat in the house pretty much from the time I was about eight until M and I moved into our apartment together after we got married. I loved my kitty and hated that I couldn’t keep him any longer. But I couldn’t deal with the cat litter, the smell of the cat (remember I was having nasty morning sickness at the time too), and my reactions to the cat hair were making me sicker too. It turns out I am much more allergic to animals, especially cats, than I originally thought, which I can tell much more easily without an animal around.
M, too, is allergic to cats and isn’t particularly fond of them either. He’s a dog man. So for him to mention how great it would be to have a cat is a BIG deal. Even if it was just a joke.
But it turns out the comment didn’t end with that laugh. Last night we started researching cats. If we can find one of those non-allergenic cats for a reasonable price, we may just get one. I never thought I’d be a cat owner again, although I’d dreamed of it. This probably won’t pan out, but I’m thrilled that there’s even a slight possibility it could happen.