I can't breathe and my asthma is killing me. Jeneane seems to think I will somehow adjust and because Osama hates the damn thing, I am suffering in silence. The first hint of "I can't breathe" will come with a "great, then let's help her find a new home." It is amazing how someone so messy...we often times call Osama "The Germ"...can have qualms about a cat.
Afif is traumatized by her because she follows him around. Yesterday, we looked all over for her only to find that he had placed Princess Pebbles in her own closet retreat. I know, you are probably thinking this isn't even funny, but I promise it was hysterical to watch us rolling the house over for a little kitten.
To be honest I really dislike pets. I used to have a dog named Bear that I still feel bad about till this day. He used to like to chew on my things, even figuring out how to get them out of my drawers. I used to get so flustered with him when he pulled apart the carpet and I was probably not the nicest owner. There was also a cat named Mimi who pooped everywhere, a bird named Susu that attracted mice to our little home in Connecticut, and a fish that seemed to explode (sorry but I forgot his name).
I know, by now you are probably wondering if it wouldn't be a wise choice to call CPS but thank goodness I have yet to have any major incidents with my kids. Every now and then I'll catch myself saying "who are these people?" when I pass them in another room but I have adjusted. I remember when Jeneane used to give me MAJOR anxiety attacks, and that has, for the most part, passed. Maybe the asthma attacks from the cat will pass as well.
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