For an allergic-type person, I’m a sucker for cats. Most of my friends have them, for one thing, and for another, well, as my Dad once pointed out, they have small faces like babies, making them perfect surrogate children for us city folk.
But the problem with cats is that they don’t live as long as humans, and so if you get attached, which you will, you’re bound to have to deal with a serious illness sooner or later … by which I mean, sooner.
My friend Megadeth’s cat Phaedrus has lymphoma. She’s treating him with hippie medicines and steroids, and he seems pretty happy, but it’s still sad to see him slowing down. This is a cat that used to look at visitors adoringly and then take a chunk out of their eyebrows.
Anyway, I got to see him over Thanksgiving, since he and MegaD live in Boston, and I did what any overcompensating aunty does: I bought him an embarrassing amount of treats. (Including catnip. Good aunties bring drugs.)
Below, you can see Himself and his new Evil Santa Hamster, which I purchased for him. We put some catnip under his hat, to inspire Phaedrus to chase him. Megadeth reports that it’s working.