I Won't Give In

There are two eyes looking longingly through the window at me. A few moments later there are four eyes out there. It's Britney Spears, and Lindsey Lohan, my outdoor kitties. They're working on me, trying to weasel their way into the house, I just know it.

It's been two months since my last indoor cat, Fat Kitty, passed away. I do miss her but the relief from cat allergies has been welcome. I've had at least one cat living in my home with me since 1975, and for thirty six years I constantly popped allergy pills. I don't miss that. I'm still cleaning up the cat hair, and it will probably take a year to get it all out of the house. Because of that I refuse to have any more indoor cats. Not only because of me, but because of Mark, and his breathing problems.

So what am I going to do? Every time I open the door to feed the little darlings, they run into the house. Three feet in, and they come face to face with Chandler. Amazingly nothing ever happens. When I step outside with their bowls of food, they follow me back out. It's a routine we've been doing for the last year or so. They seem to not be afraid of the big dog, and Sasha isn't much more than a nuisance to them. It's as if they're trying to show me they can get along with dogs. See what I mean? They're working on me, testing me, trying to break down my will.