Interview with an Allergic Lady

Phoebe’s Log: 10/21/12

Mocha stopped by our house today.  She is the shortest little Big Cat we’ve seen that is considered “full grown.”  I love her.  I’m not sure why.  I sit in the corner in awe as she deliberately makes her way to the wooden chair.   Crosby struts in after, takes his place directly across from her. 

“Hey Mocha,” he shouts and then softens to a coo, “Come over here and sit beside me and let me purrr in your ear…”

“I can’t Crosby, I’m allergic to you.”

“Really, so sad…is that why you are a short little Big Cat?”

“No Crosby, I can’t blame that on my allergy.”

“What happens when you are allergic to cats?”

“My eyes get red and I can’t breathe”

“So this means I can’t touch you?”


“Not even a little?”


“Oh, how terrible, when did you figure this out?”

“When I was 12, my parents got me a kitten.  I loved her very much, but I became sick at home and I was fine at school.  It didn’t take long…we had to give up the kitten…Her name was Melinda Sue and she was black and white….”

Oh, black and white – a mini me.  I fluffed up my soft and fluffy self, and looked at her again with my round green eyes as if I was her Melinda Sue.  Such a sad story.  I knew what I had to do…I went and rubbed against her legs…back and forth about three really good rubs before she just sort of got up and went to the bathroom breathing heavy and possibly sobbing…

I jumped in her chair, and sat, just as she, across from Crosby

“You think I killed her?” I asked him.


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