etc.

It turns out that I am allergic to my cat. Not both of them, just the one. It could be either of them, so we’re not going to start pointing any fingers. One cat I can do. Two apparently I can’t.

We got Sebastian in June of this year. Around the same time, I started noticing some laboured breathing issues. At first we blamed the nasty smog cloud that hangs over Toronto from around June to September each year, making breathing a generally unsavoury activity, and illiciting poor air quality warnings from Environment Canada practically daily. But then October rolled around and with it came the sweet, crisp, autumn air we all love, and I had to start thinking up more creative excuses for the shortness of breath and excruciating heaviness of the general lung area, even though I knew deep down that it was all probably due to an allergic reaction to the overwhelmingly concentrated felineness of our little apartment.

So I went to see my doctor and underwent a whole battery of tests (blood work, ECG, chest x-ray, etc. yes, even more radiation, dammit) and she put me on inhalers for a week which made the lung weariness go away and I’ve started to remember what it was like not to have to think about breathing. The results came in yesterday and she confirmed that deep down suspicion that I am indeed allergic to having two cats. Of course a new home is not an option (unless it’s a new home for me), so our bedroom has been declared a dander-free zone, and I am trying to ween myself off the inhalers. If that works, we’re home free. If not, I’m on Advair for as long as Heidi and Sebastian live out their natural lives, and I’ve been advised by my doctor to consider the joys of owning budgerigars thereafter.

To her I say: breathing is overrated.