Flea-Falling

 If any of you were ever so foolish as to ask what annoys me more than anything, which I doubt you would considering the extraordinarily garrulous posts I have already graced you with, I wonder myself what the response would be. Even if I have to admit, I don't know what annoys me on a day-to-day basis. However, I have a pretty good guess, and that guess is a toss-up between Valentine's Day and fleas.

I have been trying to write a blog post on V-day for a good, solid week now. Yet I can't write a single paragraph without sounding like some embittered old spinster talking to a skeletal cat in the corner. You know what I'm talking about. The kind of woman whose limbs appear as though they'll crackle like icicles and fall off any minute. Seeing as I do not carry an abyss of an alligator purse that smells like it was walking yesterday, I do not wish to give this impression. (However, if you are all very lucky, I might let one of my ulterior personalities take over and update sometime.) Anyway, the point I am finally getting around to is, I can't write about v-day so I'm gonna gripe about fleas.

At some point during this grueling summer now past, my dogs decided they wanted to show me their affection by bringing unholy numbers of fleas into the house. Believe you me, when I realized what those mutts had done, I was very strongly tempted to put them in a box and send them to the Asians down the street as a Betty Crocker Complete Meal.

Thankfully, I love my dogs and was willing to forgive them this sin. Numerous itches and a hundred dollars of medicines later, we had even managed to mostly eradicate the little hopping vampires. However, there are two lessons you should tuck away in the event this ever happens to you. One is that my mother is neither ashamed nor afraid to take a vacuum cleaner attachment to a living creature's fur in order to de-flea it. (At least the husky didn't shed so much this year) The other is one I discovered by myself. Even when you crush a flea in half between your fingernails, the decapitated little bugger from Hades will STILL leap away into the unknown in its never-ending quest to drive you insane. 

I guess the moral of this story is we should all feel a lot sorrier for the people who sit on camels all day.