Cat lover allergic to cats, not boyfriend

Roxy Hammond

Roxy Hammond

I’m a cat person. That’s really an understatement. I think ‘cat lover’ would be a little closer, but still not quite strong enough. I’ll put it this way: I will be that old woman with 75 cats that rule my house and I will have the inability to smell cat urine because I’d been living in it all my life.

Come to think of it, I’m more along the lines of a cat psycho.

But, life is cruel, and I’m allergic to cats. Not send-me-to-the-hospital allergic, but my sinuses hate them, and every time I’m around a cat I feel like I have a constant head cold.

Oh, the injustice. The girl who melts into a small little puddle of joy around them; the girl who has a problem not adopting every cat she meets; the girl who would rather run over a person with her car than a cat … is allergic to them.

This irony has plagued me for most of my life. I’ve owned a cat since I was a second-grader, and have slept in the same bed as the fur ball for almost every night until I moved to college. There is nothing that makes me happier than to feel Tiggy hogging my bed, as long as it means he’s there.

Of course, this also means that I will wake up the next morning with the inability to breathe through my nose.

Just the other day I petted and held the first cat I’d seen in three weeks.

Four hours and a change of clothes later, I went to bed only to wake up the next morning with sinus congestion taking over my brain. Yep, still allergic.

Love hurts, doesn’t it? I didn’t actually come to the realization that I was allergic to cats until about the age of 12. After having chronic sinus congestion, my doctor nonchalantly mentioned “Maybe you’re allergic to your cats, Roxy.” What? Cats? No way. That would almost be as bad as being allergic to … myself! Silly doctor! What does he know!

I later realized that maybe he had a point, and also came to the realization that I would be dealing with sinus problems for the rest of my life ’cause I love cats way more than I hate sinus infections. Some may consider me a sad person because of it, and so be it. I have yet to meet a cat I didn’t like.

My sinus infections have been well worth the time I’ve spent with my cat for the past 12 years. He is the coolest animal I have ever met, and if I had to pick between my boyfriend and my cat, I’d pick the cat (sorry Dan, but you knew that already).

Tiggy returns the love by pooping in creative ways AROUND (not in) the litter box because he’s mad that I moved out and left him behind.

That, my friends, is devotion.

So I’m crazy. I tolerate allergies to be around my favorite animal in the entire world. It seems like a fair enough exchange to me. After all, my cats tolerate me rolling over on them in the middle of the night, and they even let me dress them in doll clothes every so often.

You’d think I would have grown immune to them or something, but I haven’t, and I doubt I ever will. I will suffer through constant sniffles, snorts, and coughs for the rest of my life to enjoy their company. Why? Simple – I love cats. Period.

Roxy Hammond is a sophomore journalism major.

#1.884447:4166095905.jpg:RoxyHammondUsethisone.jpg:Roxy Hammond, Columnist: