A Curious Case of Cats
So we are currently cat sitting for our friends. The cat is not in our place but rather in their place because a) I am allergic and b) if the Kid met the cat I believe that their own version of the Illuminati would be founded... a New World Order of cat and man and we would all perish under their rule.
The cat we are cat sitting is actually quite adorable. He is a British short hair, grey and while he looks like he could rule a country with an iron paw... he loves SNUGGLES! Now, I am not much of a cat person. This stems mostly from the fact that I am very very allergic. The other part is that I like to be adored so ergo, dogs are my thing. Perhaps I recognize too much of myself in cats: Love me love me!! Leave me alone! Wait? Where are you going?! Love me! Now go away. Most of my family is allergic too so luckily there was no awkward moment when my parents had to chose between keeping me or a cat.
My first allergic terrible reaction came when I was about 11. A friend of mine's father somehow ended up with 4 kittens. As an 11 year old this was like spending a day in Chanel, trying on clothes as an adult... clothes that fit. I was smitten wit' da kittens. I spend the whole sleepover snuggling each and every one. By the time my parents picked me up the next morning, I was puffy, my eyes were almost glued shut and I was wheezy. Totally worth it. From then on I made sure to take Claritin if I was going to be Jane Goodalling felines that day. It wasn't until I was about 14 that I had my next bad attack. Back when I lived in Vienna, in a house, on a hill, with a garden, and a view of vineyards (I would have been bitter 1.5 years ago when we lived in our old place, but our new place is fabulous so the bitterness has abated), the international school had a babysitting list. You could write down your name, your age and you number and then parents of younger school kids would come by and choose from the list.
One afternoon the phone rang and I answered. A voice of a man with a French accent was on the other end. At 14 I was sucker for French accents and at 34, I still am. This certain gentleman was looking for a babysitter for his two daughters since his wife was out of town and he had a business dinner to attend and was I available? I said sure! And he asked for my address so that he could pick me up. And yes, now that I am re-living this memory, I obviously had never taken any type of Stranger Danger course. A couple of nights later, at around 6, I bade my parents a good evening, bounded down the steps and was met by an attractive late 30's French man driving a Porsche. MY GOD WHERE WERE THE ADULTS?!?! AND WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?! STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER! I got into his car and off we roared back to his place. He was friendly and told me about his two daughters. I nodded and then he asked "Are you allergic to cats?" to which I responded with "Yes, actually!" He frowned and said "Um, well, we have 4 Persian cats. They are my wife's." and I tried not to go into shock. One cat, bad reaction, 2 cats, worse, 4 PERSIAN CATS?! Kersplat, dead.
When we arrived, he told his daughters to put the cats in the laundry room and he rooted around in the kitchen for anti-histamines. They were fresh out but I put on a brave face and said "I'll be fine!" He left shortly after and I got to work babysitting. My style was old school which involved popcorn and a movie and then an impromptu dance routine to whatever song my charges loved at that time. And yes, you can totally do Jazz hands to the Thomas the Tank Engine song.
After about an hour, I was feeling pretty wheezy. After 2 hours, my face got puffy. After 3, my eyelids started to shut. I had put the children to bed between hour 1 and 2 because I don't think they would have been cool with their babysitter turning into Quasimodo. By hour 4, I was on the sofa, almost about to pass out. And that is when hot dad returned home. I am guessing by his reaction, a full body twitch, that I was in bad shape. He drove me home (HE LEFT HIS KIDS IN THE HOME ALONE?! Funny how things are different when you become a parent. You could judge before but now you can judge with conviction and panache.) and funny enough, I never heard from him again. I wonder how he is doing? He was dreamy.
So this past week we have been cat sitting. Luckily the Husband is gaga for the cat so I don't have to go all the time lest I build a dependency on Claritin. It was his turn last night and when he got home, he touched my face and then my eyes blew up. Was good to know that I am still pretty allergic and good to know that I haven't built up a tolerance against anti-histamines...yet. It is early in the morning and it is time for me to head over and feed the cat. I'm dosed up and ready for some belly rubs and purring. He is pretty adorable. And yet... I think he is planning something big. I think I saw blueprints in the living room. Dun dun duuuuuuuun.
The cat we are cat sitting is actually quite adorable. He is a British short hair, grey and while he looks like he could rule a country with an iron paw... he loves SNUGGLES! Now, I am not much of a cat person. This stems mostly from the fact that I am very very allergic. The other part is that I like to be adored so ergo, dogs are my thing. Perhaps I recognize too much of myself in cats: Love me love me!! Leave me alone! Wait? Where are you going?! Love me! Now go away. Most of my family is allergic too so luckily there was no awkward moment when my parents had to chose between keeping me or a cat.
My first allergic terrible reaction came when I was about 11. A friend of mine's father somehow ended up with 4 kittens. As an 11 year old this was like spending a day in Chanel, trying on clothes as an adult... clothes that fit. I was smitten wit' da kittens. I spend the whole sleepover snuggling each and every one. By the time my parents picked me up the next morning, I was puffy, my eyes were almost glued shut and I was wheezy. Totally worth it. From then on I made sure to take Claritin if I was going to be Jane Goodalling felines that day. It wasn't until I was about 14 that I had my next bad attack. Back when I lived in Vienna, in a house, on a hill, with a garden, and a view of vineyards (I would have been bitter 1.5 years ago when we lived in our old place, but our new place is fabulous so the bitterness has abated), the international school had a babysitting list. You could write down your name, your age and you number and then parents of younger school kids would come by and choose from the list.
One afternoon the phone rang and I answered. A voice of a man with a French accent was on the other end. At 14 I was sucker for French accents and at 34, I still am. This certain gentleman was looking for a babysitter for his two daughters since his wife was out of town and he had a business dinner to attend and was I available? I said sure! And he asked for my address so that he could pick me up. And yes, now that I am re-living this memory, I obviously had never taken any type of Stranger Danger course. A couple of nights later, at around 6, I bade my parents a good evening, bounded down the steps and was met by an attractive late 30's French man driving a Porsche. MY GOD WHERE WERE THE ADULTS?!?! AND WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME?! STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER! I got into his car and off we roared back to his place. He was friendly and told me about his two daughters. I nodded and then he asked "Are you allergic to cats?" to which I responded with "Yes, actually!" He frowned and said "Um, well, we have 4 Persian cats. They are my wife's." and I tried not to go into shock. One cat, bad reaction, 2 cats, worse, 4 PERSIAN CATS?! Kersplat, dead.
When we arrived, he told his daughters to put the cats in the laundry room and he rooted around in the kitchen for anti-histamines. They were fresh out but I put on a brave face and said "I'll be fine!" He left shortly after and I got to work babysitting. My style was old school which involved popcorn and a movie and then an impromptu dance routine to whatever song my charges loved at that time. And yes, you can totally do Jazz hands to the Thomas the Tank Engine song.
After about an hour, I was feeling pretty wheezy. After 2 hours, my face got puffy. After 3, my eyelids started to shut. I had put the children to bed between hour 1 and 2 because I don't think they would have been cool with their babysitter turning into Quasimodo. By hour 4, I was on the sofa, almost about to pass out. And that is when hot dad returned home. I am guessing by his reaction, a full body twitch, that I was in bad shape. He drove me home (HE LEFT HIS KIDS IN THE HOME ALONE?! Funny how things are different when you become a parent. You could judge before but now you can judge with conviction and panache.) and funny enough, I never heard from him again. I wonder how he is doing? He was dreamy.
So this past week we have been cat sitting. Luckily the Husband is gaga for the cat so I don't have to go all the time lest I build a dependency on Claritin. It was his turn last night and when he got home, he touched my face and then my eyes blew up. Was good to know that I am still pretty allergic and good to know that I haven't built up a tolerance against anti-histamines...yet. It is early in the morning and it is time for me to head over and feed the cat. I'm dosed up and ready for some belly rubs and purring. He is pretty adorable. And yet... I think he is planning something big. I think I saw blueprints in the living room. Dun dun duuuuuuuun.
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