Dear Doolino,
I want to adopt the cats in Asbury Circle, but my roommate is allergic to them. How do I sneak one in?
Sincerely,
Future Cat Lady
Dear Future Cat Lady,
I feel your pain. Cats are excellent companions, and I have found that they are more intelligent than most of the student body on this campus, although that is a low bar. And with Oxford College relocating all of the cats on their campus by the end of the fall semester, you must act fast as the Atlanta campus could be next. The first question you must ask yourself is how allergic your roommate truly is to cats. Is this allergy fatal or is a feline companion simply inconvenient to them? If your roommate would join me in the realm of the dead after being exposed to a cat, perhaps it is better to avoid introducing a feline friend into your home, as painful as that may be. I know humans are so annoyingly fragile. However, if it would simply cause your roommate slight discomfort — for example, a runny nose, a full-body rash or persistent sneezing fits — then you can consider the introduction of a cat an opportunity for character development. Introduce it to your ecosystem without guilt. After all, in this dog-eat-dog world (or perhaps human-get-cat world), we must put ourselves first.
Now that Thanksgiving break has ended, you have the perfect opportunity to sneak a cat from Asbury Circle into your dorm. I can guarantee that students have been avoiding studying for their upcoming finals all week. They will certainly be pulling all-nighters studying the second their plane touches down in Atlanta. Use their sleep deprivation to your advantage. Tail them at every waking moment, keeping your eyes and ears peeled for any unexpected yawns or sighs. Point out their obvious exhaustion, and helpfully suggest they take a nap or go to bed early. Insist that you only care about their well-being and will wake them up if anything important happens on campus. Eventually, they will give in to your pestering and go to bed. That, Future Cat Lady, is when you strike.
The second that your roommate falls asleep, sprint to Asbury Circle disguised in a ski mask, gloves and an all-black bodysuit. With Atlanta’s frequent rainfall and quickly dropping temperatures, you will not stand out at all. Show up armed with tuna and milk, although Emory’s cats may prefer the salty tears of pre-med students to a bowl of warm milk. I would not know — I have not cared for a pet since dog-sitting my neighbor’s hellhounds while growing up. Eventually, however, a cat or two is sure to arrive at your feet. Pick your favorite — preferably a hairless one out of respect to your roommate, although this is unlikely — and skedaddle back to your domicile. With any luck, your roommate will still be asleep. Build a little nest for your furry friend out of old blankets and towels. Make sure that they are warm — since you attend Emory University, your air conditioning unit is likely to be broken for the next three to five business years, so you cannot rely on modern technology to protect your cat from chills or illness. If you need to, steal some of your roommate’s blankets. At this point, you have already disrespected them beyond repair, so a little more betrayal would not hurt. Hope and pray that your lofted bed does not collapse on the cat — you want your new pet to eat Fancy Feast, not become it.
Around this point in time, your roommate will probably wake up. It is at this moment that you must mimic the situationship that you had freshman year — that is to say, lie about everything. If their allergies start acting up immediately, offer them some antihistamines and console them that they surely contracted frat flu (ignoring the fact that Emory students have only been back for three days with no frats throwing any flu-inducing events). Do not fret if they hear a meow or two here and there — simply gaze at your roommate with concern, remark that the fever must have traveled to their brain and recommend a visit to Emory Student Health Services. Eventually, your roommate will down some cough syrup and fall back asleep, buying you even more time with your meowing mate out in the open.
Unfortunately, it is unlikely that you will get away with this deception forever. Whether it’s by finding a stray cat hair, waking up with the curious feline sitting atop their chest or witnessing an ominous pair of glowing eyes in the shadows, your roommate will probably discover the cat eventually. As such, I suggest a coup. Stand on top of your bed, hold your cat up to the ceiling like you are in “The Lion King” (1994) and declare your place of living yours and only yours. Challenge your roommate to a duel, insisting that once they lose, they must vacate the residence immediately and allow the cat to take their bed. It does not matter what your housing portal says — in the end, it comes down to honor.
In all seriousness, Future Cat Lady, coups can be fun, but respecting others is even better. You could disrespect your roommate’s autonomy and introduce a purring pal to their home because it brings you joy, but you should not. Perhaps, before you decide to adopt a cat, you should simply spend time with your roommate and be grateful for their presence. After all, you signed a housing contract for a reason. Maybe the real feral cats were the sickly living partners we found along the way. At the end of the day, if getting a cat is that important to you, maybe you should be the person who moves out. Respect others, do not get rabies and never forget that Doolino knows best.
