A sad kitty tale.

So I was walking up my new street last night and was greeted by a small, black cat. I didn't consider this some kind of evil portent, though - I love black cats. I said hello to it. Which turned out to be a mistake, because it meowed after me and began to follow me. And I do mean follow. When I stopped, it stopped. And looked up at me. And when I started walking, it started walking, and meowing at me more. All the while I was protesting and pleading with it, that I couldn't bring it home, that it had to go away, but it wouldn't listen. I stopped to plead with it one last time at the door, and it rubbed its little head on my foot, purring.

And when I went inside? It sat outside the door and watched me. I was nearly in tears by the time I made it upstairs.

Now, if I wasn't allergic, I would have arrived at my door with arms full of cat and would have asked J if we could keep it. But I am allergic. Very allergic. I'm currently undergoing allergic immunotherapy just so I can go to the houses of OTHER people who have cats. I consider it a good visit when my eyes and/or throat don't swell shut. And the other day, when J and I decided to visit (and pet) the bodega cat we're friends with, my hands broke out in a rash after petting the store kitty.

Knowing that didn't make it any easier to turn my back on that little cat, though. I always wanted an all-black cat. If it was a girl, I probably would have named her Isis. A boy? I dunno. Possibly Mister, or Piewacket. :/ But since I can't get away with not breathing, there was no way. *sigh*

I'm off to the con now, but gah. I had to write this down first.

A sad kitty tale.

So I was walking up my new street last night and was greeted by a small, black cat. I didn't consider this some kind of evil portent, though - I love black cats. I said hello to it. Which turned out to be a mistake, because it meowed after me and began to follow me. And I do mean follow. When I stopped, it stopped. And looked up at me. And when I started walking, it started walking, and meowing at me more. All the while I was protesting and pleading with it, that I couldn't bring it home, that it had to go away, but it wouldn't listen. I stopped to plead with it one last time at the door, and it rubbed its little head on my foot, purring.

And when I went inside? It sat outside the door and watched me. I was nearly in tears by the time I made it upstairs.

Now, if I wasn't allergic, I would have arrived at my door with arms full of cat and would have asked J if we could keep it. But I am allergic. Very allergic. I'm currently undergoing allergic immunotherapy just so I can go to the houses of OTHER people who have cats. I consider it a good visit when my eyes and/or throat don't swell shut. And the other day, when J and I decided to visit (and pet) the bodega cat we're friends with, my hands broke out in a rash after petting the store kitty.

Knowing that didn't make it any easier to turn my back on that little cat, though. I always wanted an all-black cat. If it was a girl, I probably would have named her Isis. A boy? I dunno. Possibly Mister, or Piewacket. :/ But since I can't get away with not breathing, there was no way. *sigh*

I'm off to the con now, but gah. I had to write this down first.