Can it be? I’m allergic to Gus??
Living in Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Ohio, and even the southern tier of New York State, I never had hay fever. But as soon as I moved up to Saratoga Springs, I joined the ranks of spring sufferers. After a couple of sneezy, snotty Mays capped by Memorial Day bronchitis attacks, I realized that trees and grasses and other plants all share a very short growing season up here. In my particular neighborhood some dunderhead had long ago squeezed a huge blue spruce tree between my garage and the next-door house, and every spring the pollen billowed from it by the bushelful. I had the spruce removed, but plenty of other conifers still yellow the air (and sidewalks and windshields) with their pollen.
It was no surprise this spring that I developed itchy eyes and a drippy nose and a scratchy throat. But come June, instead of fading, it all got worse. And what else happened in June? Gus started to shed his prolific winter coat. I didn’t notice the coincidence until I went to Maine for a week: the day before I left I spent extra time brushing Gus, the day we drove to Maine I was sniffling and glurking and achooing more than ever, in Maine my sinuses were surprisingly improved, the day after I got home I resumed my donkey-dehairing duties, and the day after that I couldn’t stop blowing my nose and clearing my throat, plus that night one ear spontaneously clogged up and I got dizzy.
This is my first spring and summer with Gus, and it’s also my first summer with such persistent and severe allergy symptoms. I never had this problem with horses shedding, but Gus’s dander is probably as different from a horse’s as are his personality and physique.
Well. Hmmm. I’m still half-deaf and reeling like a drunken sailor, but I’m certainly not going to drop Gus from my dance card. So what will I do? Plan A is to dose up on stinging-nettle extract (a fairly effective natural antihistamine for me) before each trip to the barn and also to wear a dust mask when I groom him. If his allergens prove too virulent for such home remedies, I’ll reluctantly and cautiously try Plan B: pharmaceuticals. In another few weeks he should be finished shedding, and I hope that will end the matter. Until next spring . . .
Pollen washed ashore in a rain puddle |
It was no surprise this spring that I developed itchy eyes and a drippy nose and a scratchy throat. But come June, instead of fading, it all got worse. And what else happened in June? Gus started to shed his prolific winter coat. I didn’t notice the coincidence until I went to Maine for a week: the day before I left I spent extra time brushing Gus, the day we drove to Maine I was sniffling and glurking and achooing more than ever, in Maine my sinuses were surprisingly improved, the day after I got home I resumed my donkey-dehairing duties, and the day after that I couldn’t stop blowing my nose and clearing my throat, plus that night one ear spontaneously clogged up and I got dizzy.
This is my first spring and summer with Gus, and it’s also my first summer with such persistent and severe allergy symptoms. I never had this problem with horses shedding, but Gus’s dander is probably as different from a horse’s as are his personality and physique.
Well. Hmmm. I’m still half-deaf and reeling like a drunken sailor, but I’m certainly not going to drop Gus from my dance card. So what will I do? Plan A is to dose up on stinging-nettle extract (a fairly effective natural antihistamine for me) before each trip to the barn and also to wear a dust mask when I groom him. If his allergens prove too virulent for such home remedies, I’ll reluctantly and cautiously try Plan B: pharmaceuticals. In another few weeks he should be finished shedding, and I hope that will end the matter. Until next spring . . .
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