Trinity has poison ivy. AGAIN.
My daughter knows after last year’s infestation, she shouldn’t be at the edge of our property along the fence line because that’s where the poison ivy hangs out. But the lure of ripe mulberries was too much for her to bear and in her quest for fresh fruit she ventured into the danger zone.
(Now if you are me, this is where you start humming the Top Gun theme song “Danger Zone” by Kenny Logins. But this isn’t a post about Top Gun or Kenny Logins so just. stop. it.)
Yesterday Trinity’s rash didn’t look so bad. Last night I put her to bed with plenty of calamine lotion and a good dose of antihistamine thinking everything would be fine. When I went to check on her, she was sleeping peacefully as our family cat kept watch over her.
This morning, however, the rash has gone all “Incredible Hulk” over her entire face, neck, and arms. In fact, her face is so swollen she couldn’t even open her eyes. So I packed everyone up and went to the doctor’s office where they prescribed a nice dose of steroids.
(I also bought her a box of Toaster Pastries, because if you have poison ivy this bad you deserve a little treat.)
This afternoon she is passed out on the couch as the steroids, calamine lotion, and antihistamines do their job. And once again the family cat is watching over her.
Look how his eyes seem to be saying, “Don’t you wake up my patient, woman.”
This is the same cat that would curl protectively over my huge baby belly when I was put on modified bed-rest with two of my pregnancies. This is the same cat who good-naturedly endured my children’s clumsy attempts at love when they were toddlers. And it is the same cat who lets the children carry him everywhere despite the fact that he is as old as dirt and his bones are brittle.
I am a cat person. I’ve had a cat (or two) my entire life and so I’ve had several I’ve loved with all my heart. But this cat is different because not only do I love him, but so do my children. Best of all, he seems to love them back.
And that makes him forever special.