Fleabag

Sunday morning we slept in, showered & ran into Mixins for breakfast/lunch, then on into Urbana to feed & clean-up Scott's parents cats (they went to the Bears game much to Scott's envy) & then back home to do yardwork, clean up the house & maybe go fish or hike later. But, this was not to be. About 3 o'clock, I was watching Wilson. Noticed he was a little itchy. I grabbed a brush & ran it thru him - and what did I see? FLEA DIRT. I grabbed Vincent. Saw the little vermin marching around thru his otherwise clean fur. Rolled the dog over on his back - sure enough, fleas just partying it up in his nether regions. Scott & I stared at each other over Turk's waving paws, appalled. Never, in all the years we've been together or since we've had Turk, have we had a flea problem. We spazzed out & War was declared. By 3:15, we were on our way to Springfield for ammunition. Of course, we couldn't get the good vet-prescribed flea-killer stuff, but with fleas, time is of the essence especially when you have 10+ warm, hairy bodies. It was pretty funny tho' - the whole way there we were scratching in paranoia, suspiciously eyeballing each other whenever one of us scratched. But, we came home, armed with the most expensive OTC drops we could get, a new bottle of carpet cleaner, and two bottles of uber-expensive flea spray. And we went to town. The cats were dropped & locked in various rooms, the dog was dropped & locked in the garage. We swept, tore the furniture apart, swept, pulled stuff out, swept, and finally cleaned carpets. Furniture & pillows were sprayed down, blankets & all clothing were washed. Then, we let the cats out of the bedroom & green room & repeated this whole process with those two rooms. At 8 o'clock, we loaded up the dog bedding & our huge comforter & carted off to the laundromat. By 9, we were back home, reassembling our living room & preparing to cook dinner - we had thawed out some panfish & HAD to cook it, but it was a welcome & tasty end to a long day. Our bedroom is quite nice tho' - the carpet is cleaner than it's been since we moved in, all the bedding was fresh & soft - we've both slept very well the past couple nights. This morning, the cats were still all spiky-furred & annoyed. Those fleas had better be gone! I don't know how they could survive such a vicious, methodical onslaught!

Goddamn parasites. Do they really have a purpose? Really?