I am allergic to your cat. Yes, your cat. No, not his cat. Not her cat. Well, okay, theirs, but yours too.
Oh, that’s interesting. No, I’ve never heard that before. Your cat doesn’t give people allergies? Your cat is magical and hypoallergenic? By all means, let’s have Mr. Mittens climb right up on my lap and make himself at home. No, no — my eyes always look like this. I always cough like Welsh miner. Don’t worry.
While we’re at it, have I introduced you to my pet? His name is Mr. Poison Ivy. You have to pet Mr. Poison Ivy, or I’ll be terribly offended. No, don’t worry. He never gives people rashes. Oh, I know some poison ivys give people rashes, but not mine. Because he loves you.
Ha, ha, do you see what I did there? I am allergic to your cat. Your cat makes me sniffle and sneeze. She gives to me the hives. My nose runs in his presence. My tonsils, they are like balls of molten lava. I resemble a super-flu victim in “The Stand.”
Let me tell you something else. Your boyfriend, who isn’t allergic to your cat? He is. He’s pretending to have a coke habit so that he can get into your pants, but in reality, the cat hair on your sweater is making the teensy blood vessels in his eyes explode.
And your allergies, which act up around every other cat, but not yours? They don’t exist. You are mildly irritated in the presense of twelve pounds of pet hair, as anyone would be, but once you get around to vaccuuming your apartment you will breathe easily once more. Don’t be offended. I am allergic to dust in much the same way.
I am allergic to your cat. I am.