Dog Allergies, Part Deux

“I have some good news and I have some bad news,” I told my husband.

“Give me the good news first.”

“OK. The vet doesn’t think the dog’s ear infections are from a food allergy after all, so we don’t have to keep feeding him that hypo-allergenic food,” I said.

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“Hallelujah,” shouted my husband. He was understandably jubilant. We had just come off a month of canine chemical warfare. The special food gave the dog such strong gas, it not only forced us to leave the room, it probably punched a hole in the ozone layer and contributed to global warming. I decided that the reason they call it flatulence is because it knocked us flat off our feet.

“Anyway, the bad news is they did some blood tests and found out the dog has some other allergies.” I read from the list the doctor had faxed to me. “He’s allergic to trees, grass, pollen, mold, dust mites, fleas, insects in general, and wool.”

My husband gave me the evil eye of death. “So, the dog is basically allergic to everything inside the house and out, right?” he concluded.

“Yes,” I paused. “And he’s also allergic to us.”

My husband snorted. “Come on.”

“He’s allergic to human dander,” I said. 

My husband threw up his arms. “I guess the dog is going to have to live in a plastic bubble.”

“Actually, they want to give him allergy shots,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes. “You know, our actual children weren’t even this much work. Can’t we just give him some Claritin or something?”

I looked at the dog splayed out on the wool rug laden with mold and dust mites and I sighed. “Good thing you’re so cute,” I told him. He scratched at his ears.

The next day I drove him to see the pet specialist an hour away. The waiting room was filled to capacity with some pretty miserable looking creatures, and those were just the pet owners. The dogs, of course, did not look much better. Looking around, I suddenly realized where Dr. Seuss got his inspiration: There were old dogs, new dogs, red dogs, blue dogs. Dogs that itched and dogs that sneezed; dogs that twitched and dogs that wheezed. Dogs with no fur and dogs with no hair. Allergic dogs…everywhere!

I opted not to sit next to the wheezing guy with the matching wheezing bulldog or the lady with blue hair with the hairless cat. I finally settled on a seat next to a woman with a dog at her feet and a cat in her lap.

“Wow, you have two pets here,” I said, stating the obvious. “What are their problems?”

“Allergies,” she replied, succinctly.

“Oh, really? Me, too,” I said. Not unlike everyone else in the waiting room. “What are they allergic to?”

“The cat is allergic to the fish in his food.”

I laughed. “That’s funny. A cat that’s allergic to fish.” She smiled.

“What about your dog?” I asked.

“He’s allergic to the cat.”

For more Lost in Suburbia, visit Tracy at

The opinions expressed herein are the writer's alone, and do not reflect the opinions of or anyone who works for is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the writer.

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