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April 17, 2007
In the middle of our worst fights, Jeff would say, “I wanted a cat,” and it was true. When we first met, he had a litter box, but no cat. Yet. He’d say it when our marriage was going badly, or when Faith’s rotten behavior had worn us down, menaced a docile Golden Retriever, leapt at an innocent jogger, pooped on the rug. I was allergic to cats, and while I nearly bought a hairless cat, I learned from a similarly allergic friend that it was the combo of dander and saliva that made me itch: fur, lack thereof: irrelevant.