Diagnosis Confirmed: Feline Dander

Finally this week, at the tender age of 57, I was tested for allergies.  Up until this week I just figured I was allergic to everything.  The constant (actually chronic is the accepted medical term) post nasal drip was a giveaway.   More recently I have had more bouts with sinus infections.

My PCP recommended that I see an ENT who did a scopy procedure on my nasal passages.  The scopy found that I had a deviated something or another (accepted medical term is actually “something or another”.  Go figure.)  Then he ordered allergy testing to pinpoint the exact cause(s) of my constant adverse sinus episodes.

I’m sure many of my readers have been subjected to the testing: sticking a number of needles tipped with various allergens into the arm.  My body reacted correctly, which I was thrilled to learn.  I was bit concerned because I had not stayed up all night cramming for this test.   The spots where the bad allergens had been injected flared up nicely.  The technician was very helpful pointing out what each individual bump meant.

“Okay, this is tree pollen oak, ash, elm and so on*…you have a mild allergy to a few mold spores.  Severe reaction to dust mites. Nothing for dogs, but you have a severe reaction to (drum roll and Shakespearean clap of thunder)…cats!”

None of this news was any surprise.  Warrior Queen was tested years ago and had the same results.  I long suspected that I am allergic to my daughters.  Fortunately all three are domestic short hairs.  I remember having severe reactions to long hair cats decades ago: instant congestion, swelled, puffy, itchy eyes, sneezing and a low tolerance for people with opposing political views.  I have not had these physical reactions in years, although the low tolerance for people with opposing political views is still strong with this one.

For many this might be a no-brainer.  The easy solution would be to find new homes for our girls.  This idea was quickly dashed.

Easy solutions, like for example bombing the crap out of North Korea this weekend, might seem attractive in the short term.  The problem with short term effects is that it ends too quickly.  It leaves too much time for doubt and regret later on.  Either we will miss our cats or we end up with severe radiation poisoning as we struggle to survive in the vast nuclear wasteland that was formerly the great USA.

Each of our girls is a treasure, even with the occasional hair ball to clean up.  Nothing seems to bother Nyla: she still wakes me up every morning for her breakfast and then generally ignores us for the rest of the day until she wants treats.  Gigi is young and rambunctious: she has been a good playmate for Nyla since we adopted her three years ago.  Her only bad habit is her use of her sharp claws on my shin when I am sitting at the computer.  I get it that she wants attention, but damn, those claws are sharper than allergen testing needles.

Then there is Oreo, who has not been well lately.  Her plumbing has been clogged up for about a month now.  Her appetite for dry food has fallen off, but she still picks at her wet food.  The vet has given her two enemas so far, but she is still having problems getting rid of her solid waste (if you know what I mean).  The kidneys are fine.  We have started slipping some medication into her wet food, along with a laxative. We hope to see some solid results soon. **

In any event, the mere thought of packing our girls with their tiny kitty valises full of kibbles and litter and expecting them to find their way back to the local ASPCA is out of the question.   Their absence would leave a huge emotional void in our lives.

So we will compromise.   We will invest in various devices to alleviate our suffering.  The purchase of a HEPA air filter is being considered and, who knows, may cut back Warrior Queens asthma attacks.  And our girls?  They can continue to live with us in luxury, their staff at beck and call for food and treats.  And keep that litter box full. 

Going forward our cats will, however, have to endure certain sharp, but good-natured, jabs to their precious pussy psyches from yours truly.   For example I may not call them by name, but rather refer to them as the “allergen factories,” or “portable dander units.”

Such is the price they will have to pay in order to live here at the pleasure and discretion of their human staff.

*I’m paraphrasing here.

**Please forgive this too easy punch line transgression, oh Gods of Satire.

(Thank you for reading.   On the other hand I had no reaction to the dog dander allergen.  Hmm….)