A Cat Named Howard

I've been reminiscing tonight about my all-time worst visiting teaching moment.  It happened just over 5 years ago, and I can't remember the names of anyone involved except the cat.  This is the story as I wrote it in 2010:

 I was visiting a sister I knew fairly well who was contemplating a move.  They were offered the chance to rent a gorgeous 6,000 square foot home in Holliday, minutes from her husband's work, for less rent than they were paying on their medium-sized home.  It was an unbelievable opportunity.   But they couldn't accept right away because they were waiting for word on whether or not they would be allowed to bring their cat.

Let me tell you about this cat.  His name is Howard.  He is the most hideous cat known to man and nobody in the family really likes him.  His fluffy grey fur is at least 4 inches long and when I go to their house I can see it floating in the air.  I can feel the hair filling up my lungs every time I speak.  (I do my best listening at their house.)  I get dressed specifically to go visiting teaching and then change when I get home. 

Howard belonged to her husband before they were married.  Her husband can't stand the cat.  He is actually allergic to cats. 

Howard's worst feature is not his fur.  It is his nose and eyes that are continuously oozing because it just so happens that Howard is allergic to humans.

When she told me they might not accept the offer to their dream home because of Howard, I felt it my duty as a visiting teacher to intervene.

I looked at the cat.  I looked at her.  I said, "If you go stick that cat out behind my tire, I'll be sure to back out quick." 

I was expecting a laugh, but the look on her face was shock and horror.  She actually covered up Howard's ears and then sent him out of the room where he could be safe.  They are moving on Friday. 

I'd like to think I was joking about running over the cat.  I've never considered myself to be a cold-blooded cat killer... but it really felt like the right thing to do.   

Completely unrelated, a few months ago we found a sick orange cat on our front porch.  Instead of lovingly bringing it inside to feed and nurse back to health, I called animal control to come take it away.  The next week at church, one of my sweet little primary sunbeams starts talking about her new orange kitten that ran away.  She misses him very much.  Poor little Ginger. 

**Disclaimer** Ginger was lying in a pool of vomit (on our doormat) and had not moved for 3 hours.  It was reported as a stray on the homeowner's website and nobody responded.   

I have no excuse for my behavior towards Howard.