Flea Fly Flo Fly

Originally posted July 27/2007 on "Allison Wonderland"



My Dog Has Fleas... OK, actually, it's my cat, but there's no song about that. We call him "The Dog" anyway, 'cause he's a pretty freakin' big cat. And he thinks he's a lap dog.

Yes, Gustifer has the fleas. Poor guy. Wait- what am I saying? Poor us! Gus doesn't seem to mind; in fact, I suspect he's harbouring them like tiny fugitives- they may be his pets. I, on the other hand, seem to have a few bites on me.

Gus has got the thickest fur, which makes it quite difficult to find the little pests, and I refuse to put a flea collar on him or use skin treatments- Simon cuddles our cats too much. That stuff is POISON, and I'd rather not have my baby getting it on his hands, which inevitably end up in his mouth. Call me crazy...

So we're sticking with relentless combing with the very-fine-toothed comb I picked up at the dollar store. Gus gets a little angry when I try to brush his belly, but he's such an attention whore that he comes back 10 seconds later for more. Yesterday I got six fleas; today I found three. Have you ever had to kill those suckers? They're like the thing that wouldn't die.* The only way I've figured out is to pin 'em down and pop their teeny heads off with my thumbnail. Gross, but effective. Then all the fur, flea poop, dead bugs and what I assume are egg cases (or possibly more poop) gets tied up tight in a plastic bag and tossed.

The good news is that I haven't seen a flea on Simon's head in a week. The bad news is that a week ago, I saw a flea on Simon's head. (Didn't see that comin', did you?) I'm hoping that if I keep brushing and getting rid of the garbage, we'll be flea-free soon. Oh, and yes, I vacuum and empty the canister right away. Not as much as I should, but it gets done.


*I'm tired. Leamme alone.