I Can’t Be An Animal Person

It’s 4:23 and I’m sitting in my classroom with eyelids as heavy as a baby elephant after a thanksgiving feast. That’s of course if elephants celebrated thanksgiving. I’m convinced they would if they knew about it. 

I’m also convinced I am not a dog person. I’m not a dog person or a cat person or an animal of any nature person. 
And it’s not because my heart is black. It’s because my body breaks out in hives and my throat gets the funniest not so subtle tightening sensation when I’m near animals. 
Today, I was standing in the front office minding my own beeswax when a lady we work with walked her service animal in. And while I’m so glad for the happiness and support this animal will one day bring to his owner, I was not at all happy to see him. 
He sensed it. I’m convinced he looked in my soul and deciphered my allergies. And then he just leaned over and licked me. Just like that. Lick. On the back of my leg. My long skirt brushed aside and he made contact with my skin. 
I’ve been rubbing myself down with lavender oils and heavily medicating myself with Benadryl. 

Also, I’ve been slurring my words and blinking quite slowly. 
~Nonsense the Drooler