RangerWickett
Legend
I just gave quick baths to my three cats. It's 5:30 in the morning, I'm sleepy, and my arms are scratched to heck.
See, around 3am I spotted a flea on one of my cats. Despite my cat's ardent refusal to let me remove the blood-sucking parasite, I managed to hold the kitty down long enough to pry the bugger off with a pair of tweezers, and then crush it.
Then, I noticed two more fleas.
Our cats go outside sometimes. Usually fleas aren't a problem; they just weren't very common in our neighborhood, I suppose. I'm not sure if this time around they got them from another cat, or if they hitched a ride on one of my family members when we went over to a friend's house (my brother's girlfriend had a NASTY flea problem not too long ago). Regardless, I hate the ****ing bastards, and wouldn't abide by them.
At 4 in the morning, no one else was willing to help out. I decided it'd be best to just wait 'til morning. Then one of the cats came into my room and started to sleep on my bed. I noticed he too had fleas. Which would mean that if I go to bed, I'll probably be bitten by a flea or two. Did I mention I hate the nasty little ****ing blood-sucking sons-of-*****es?
So I prepare as best I can for an impromptu anti-flea ritual. One by one, I bring the cats into my bathroom, force them into a sink of water, and begin rubbing them with handsoap. I know it's not the preferred way to get rid of fleas, and I fully intend to prepare better tomorrow and actually shop, but I managed to kill at least four fleas on each cat, and hopefully more were suffocated in the soap suds.
Now, of course the cats hate me for it. And of course less than an hour later I'm petting one of them and see a pair of fleas skittering along under its fur. So I'm stuck feeling as if I wasted my time. I got clawed up, pissed off my cats, and alerted the fleas to my plans, plus ended up staying up 'til dawn, with very little to show for it.
Well, at least the cats smell a little better.
See, around 3am I spotted a flea on one of my cats. Despite my cat's ardent refusal to let me remove the blood-sucking parasite, I managed to hold the kitty down long enough to pry the bugger off with a pair of tweezers, and then crush it.
Then, I noticed two more fleas.
Our cats go outside sometimes. Usually fleas aren't a problem; they just weren't very common in our neighborhood, I suppose. I'm not sure if this time around they got them from another cat, or if they hitched a ride on one of my family members when we went over to a friend's house (my brother's girlfriend had a NASTY flea problem not too long ago). Regardless, I hate the ****ing bastards, and wouldn't abide by them.
At 4 in the morning, no one else was willing to help out. I decided it'd be best to just wait 'til morning. Then one of the cats came into my room and started to sleep on my bed. I noticed he too had fleas. Which would mean that if I go to bed, I'll probably be bitten by a flea or two. Did I mention I hate the nasty little ****ing blood-sucking sons-of-*****es?
So I prepare as best I can for an impromptu anti-flea ritual. One by one, I bring the cats into my bathroom, force them into a sink of water, and begin rubbing them with handsoap. I know it's not the preferred way to get rid of fleas, and I fully intend to prepare better tomorrow and actually shop, but I managed to kill at least four fleas on each cat, and hopefully more were suffocated in the soap suds.
Now, of course the cats hate me for it. And of course less than an hour later I'm petting one of them and see a pair of fleas skittering along under its fur. So I'm stuck feeling as if I wasted my time. I got clawed up, pissed off my cats, and alerted the fleas to my plans, plus ended up staying up 'til dawn, with very little to show for it.
Well, at least the cats smell a little better.