About thirty years ago, I developed asthma. I was a smoker, as were most of my generation. At the time, I also had three cats. Well, the cats and the cigarettes had to go. It took a while to get things under control, including a month at the National Jewish Hospital out in Denver, a month after which I was told, "You have asthma." After a few visits to the emergency room and new medications I managed to get it under control and breathing normally until I almost forgot about it. John brought the teeny Dupree home from a camping trip and he's never bothered me, although I did avoid getting too close for a few years.
Since John is down in Athens, Ohio, working, Sally had to bear the brunt of hauling me back and forth to the ER. She also discovered that my living room rug, which I had just vacuumed with my super duper new Kenmore vacuum cleaner was a hotbed of Dupree's undercoat, which she diligently scraped up by hand. Apparently it was too fine for the VC. I had been using a floor fan set on the rug, aimed at my chair for weeks. So, who knows if that's what did it. I only know that I haven't had a problem with Dupree in 17 years, so I don't think that's it. Thanks to Sally's hard work, it is now fine fur free - At least for a while.
Before John left, he installed a nice AC unit in the living room, which cools off the entire downstairs, so I don't need the fan any more. Cynthia came over last night and groomed the hell out of Dupree, so he should shed less. I am full of steroids, so nobody had better mess with me.