I went in for my allergy testing today and, after getting a whole rash of allergens (no pun intended!) inserted along my arms, discovered that I was allergic to…timothy, among other things.
It reminds me of Grandpa’s story about how Cotton (Grandma and Grandpa’s dog) got her name changed. A farmer a couple of farms down noticed that his dog was getting mangy–but it didn’t improve after treatment. So the vet started poking around–“Does your dog play around in the corn fields?” “Why yes, but he’s been doing that since he was a puppy.” “Hmmm… What does your dog sleep on?” “He sleeps on wheat stray in the barn–but he’s been doing that for forever too.” “What about other animals? Does he spend time with other dogs?” “He spends time with Charles’ dog all the time–they practically grew up together.” Then the farmer pauses, “But, come to think of it, Cotton’s been down at Charles’ a lot lately.” “Ah-hah!” the doctor says, “Your dog’s allergic to cotton!” So they changed Cotton’s name to Polyester and the other dog’s been just fine since.
I told Timothy about my newly discovered allergy–and he looked at me with horror. “What if I was allergic to timothy?” It’s a good question, and one that bears asking. What does a man do if he discovers that he is allergic to…himself? Would changing his name be sufficient? I don’t know.
Just as a precaution, I advise future parents to check the lists of top allergens before naming their little ones. Sure “Hormodendrum” sounds like a great name for your little girl–but you never know who might be allergic.