Dogs>Cats (Thanks a lot, Casey!)

It’s not that I HATE cats, but I would never have one.

The first reason is because my wife is allergic to them. The second reason is Casey the cat.

They say you get one chance to make a good first impression, and Casey botched that up for sure. My underwear could attest to that.

Casey was my aunt and uncle’s cat who was, shall we say, very very VERY…not nice (courtesy of my cousin’s relentless tormenting of her for years). When I was five years old, my parents and I went to visit them in South Carolina.

Pops warned me about Casey on the ride down.

“Now, Aunt Anne and Uncle Marvin have a cat named Casey, and Casey will bite you so hard if you’re not careful,” he said. “I’m just warning you now.”

Okay, so maybe the bad first impression wasn’t so much Casey’s fault as it was my Pops’s planting the fear in my mind before I even saw that darn cat.

I spent the first day at Anne and Marvin’s constantly looking out for Casey, as if she was Shere Khan. I had my plastic sword at my hip, just in case.

There was no sign of her.

That night, though, I was even more nervous when the clock struck 8.

It was time for bed.

“What if Casey’s in my room?” I stammered.

“Oh don’t worry, I already checked and she’s not in there.” Anne said.

I laid down in bed with the covers up to my chin, sword still at my side. The room was quiet.

Suddenly, I thought I heard something.

“Rrrrrrrrrrrr…”

What in the world was that?

I heard it again.

“Rrrrrrrrrrrr…”

It was coming from under the bed.

I climbed down, sloooooooooowly, and peeked my head under the bed frame.

“Rrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaawwwwwh HISSSSSS!”

Casey took a swipe at me with her paw!

“AAAAAH!” I cried, jumped out of the room and tore down the hallway toward the kitchen.

I forgot my sword. So much for home defense.

It took a few minutes, but Pops led me back into the bedroom to make sure Casey was no longer there.

“She must’ve run out when you screamed,” he said.

“Well I’m not going back in there until I’m sure she’s gone!” I replied.

So Anne tracked down Casey and held her until I was safely back in the room and the door was closed. I even locked it.

I wasn’t taking any chances.

Years later Pops told me that Casey’s front paws didn’t actually have any claws in them.

Gee, it sure would’ve been nice to know THAT little detail.

No dog has ever scared me the way Casey the cat did. Which is why my wife and I have two dogs, and zero cats.

And yes, because my wife is allergic to cats.

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