On Sunday, Syd and I took Cricket to get a much-needed pedicure. Cricket loves everything about the grooming place except the actual nail trimming. She greets the women working there with enthusiasm bordering on the extreme. She wags her entire body. She tries to lick and cute her way out of the trimming. It never works, but she is not deterred. She was still so excited when the woman was handing her back to me over the counter, she gashed my chest with her shorter but still sharp nails. I bled. I felt like swearing, but didn’t. Over the course of our walk home, I continued to bleed and all the scratches swelled up as my body reacted to dog with a normal dog-allergic reaction.
Yesterday I took advantage of the sun to go outside and remove the wild grasses of the Serengeti that had grown all over my front yard. Various wild and tame plants fought back against my incursions, leaving me with forearms full of itchy scrapes from the normal grass and pollen allergic reactions.
In theory, I should not have a dog or garden because of my allergies. Brent did not realize that I was allergic to dogs for the simple reason that I have never really mentioned it. My cat allergy is severe enough to affect my behavior, but the rest of my allergies, thanks to years of shots, are mostly inconveniences. I’m not about to let some itchiness get between me and dog cuddles.
Being me, I am now curious about what I may have been missing out on because of some kind of “allergy” I’m allowing to win. I’ll see what comes up this spring.