Flee, Fleas

It always feels soooo good to get back home after a trip. Well, that "glad to be home feeling" normally holds true. Not this time. Our cats and house have fleas. Ugh! I am ready to leave again.

Jemima is doing her best to show us what a true flea bag looks like. Our unpacked duffelbag still had clean clothes in it, until she curled up for a nap. Yay! More laundry.

I have had pets for years, yet I had no idea what a flea looked like. I had to Google it.

Thankfully, fleas are nowhere near this size in real life.

This is what Bartholomew thinks of the whole parasitic situation.

He blames his sister for being such a gracious host.

She blames him.

There's a lot of paw pointing going on here...

and a lot of itching and scratching.

We are now armed with a three-month supply of Frontline Tritak from the vet, and the exterminator is coming to treat our house and yard. Daily combings, house vacuuming, and regular kitty baths are in order until we win this war. (Thanks to the Katy Thompsons, we have a bar of goat milk flea soap. The Maine Coons beasties just love bath time!)

In my spare time, I will be cleaning up flea "dirt" from just about every nook and cranny in our house. Okay, "dirt" is too poetic of a word -- we're talking poop -- tiny flecks of flea excrement. It's a crappy job, but somebody's gotta do it. I don't think the furry family members are going to be lifting a paw to help with the cleanup efforts, as they'll likely be napping. Cats!