Humor - Nos-flea-ratu

I'm being attacked by vampires!

I don't mean the cuddly cute (gag!!!) teen story kind of vampire; I mean the eat-your-blood-in-the-middle-of-the-night type vampires. The REAL kind of vampire (no, not you, Nosferatu!). Democrats! No! Sorry. Just using satire to lighten my mood a little.

The real vampires I'm talking about are FLEAS!

Now, I've had cats and dogs all of my life, and I've dealt with fleas before. Dirty, little, knee-biting (place appropriate derogatory words here). But this time it's different!

I went to bed one night and woke up to an apartment that was no longer my own. Fleas had moved in and taken over: they were raiding the ice-box, moving in their own furniture, using my phone to sign-up for strange long-distance companies without my permission, recording and rebroadcasting MLB games without prior written consent, and re-carpeting the whole place in loud, obnoxious colors.

I don't know what it was I did to deserve this rash of unwanted attention, but I wish they would go away!

I was even being a good pet owner, keeping a flea collar on my cat and brushing her fur with the flea comb. I never saw any fleas in the comb, so I figured I was doing pretty good.

I think my cat was trying to get back at my wife and me for leaving her alone. We went to visit my wife's parents and had a friend take care of her (the cat, not my wife) while away. But I think she has issues (again, the cat not my wife).

We found her (yes, the cat) after her former owner abandoned her. So she has abandonment issues. This I am sensitive to--just as I am sensitive to how badly formed the first part of this sentence is.

But I'm talking about BIGGER issues. Issues that could keep chat rooms buzzing for years to come--a Meme that won't die.

My cat's name is Freckles. I'm pretty sure she's OK with that, but she has taken exception to other things.

Some of these things are not letting her sit on my lap for more than 72 hours at a time and my not letting her sleep on my wife's favorite coat (even though I've told my wife about 1.6 billion times not to leave it on the couch over night).

I think the ultimate issue with her is when I'm scratching her ears and have to stop (usually due to severe finger cramps or blisters from extended finger to fur contact). She loves getting her ears scratched so much that she drools approximately 30 gallons of saliva ever second I'm scratching her ears' "sweet spot". (Actually I take issue with the drool!)

So, with all of these "issues" she's packing around, I think she has plotted a cunning plan which includes collusion with her mortal enemies, the fleas. She has decided to try and teach me and my wife a lesson!

I think that during the last week or so of our trip to the in-laws, my loving, precious cat, Freckles, got an army of those little devils together and invited them to stay at "her" place for a while.

I noticed one or two fleas when I said "hello" to the cat and combed her fur the first time, but the numbers of fleas just a week later was mind-numbing!

Actually, I couldn't count them since they all seemed to have the power of invisibility! They come, they bite, they disappear and reproduce.

My legs and ankles look like they've been chewed on by rabid badgers or something! And the itching! Oh, don't get me started! You know how hard it is to stop!

Usually I would spread borax all over the carpet and let it sit for 24 hours or so. This kills the fleas and their eggs so you can just vacuum them all up. If necessary, you repeat the process three days later.

The problem now is the sheer amount of--shall we say--crap all over our LITTLE, one bedroom apartment. We are still unpacking from the in-law trip and a camping trip from which we just came back.

The carpet is too well covered with stuff to use the borax method this time.

I resorted to RAID Deep Reach Foggers for this particular battle. It included 33% more (one can) which is interesting since the extra can was broken. I held both my breath and the fogger trigger. Ouch! I had no idea that they used liquid nitrogen in those little buggers! My thumb quickly froze and fell off. NO! Just kidding. But it did get VERY uncomfortable to hold the freezing can to the end. I had to go to the door and gasp for air every so often and I think I began to hallucinate. I clearly recall speaking with Elvis about peanut-butter and Spam. Odd. My wife likes Spam.

Now I have to stay out of the house until 7pm and am spending time in the laundry room (detached from the apartment) and writing this article. (I'm also watching "Heroes" on Netflix.com) How's that for product placement? (Wish I were being paid for it!)

I think I got some bug spray on my face, too, since it just fell into my lap a moment ago. Thank goodness for Duct Tape.

I'm not stupid. I did my best to follow the directions. I am just REALLY desperate to stop the biting! I itch so much, I could audition for a skin disorder advertisement.

I'm sorry this article has gone on so long, but it's a fearful situation I am facing.

I itch so much I want to die (or drink). And I'm in such a quandary as to what to do, I just want to curl-up and die (or drink).

I keep getting those two options confused. But since drinking is easier to do, I've been hitting the sake a bit recently. Actually, it's been hitting me, but it's a whole lot more pleasant than the itching of the flea bites.

I think my wife (who doesn't seem at all bothered by the fleas) and I will go out to karaoke while we wait for the flea bombs to do their work.

At least there won't be any vampires!

This is a follow up to the article above.

I was grateful for eliminating the flea problem in my home all those years ago. I think that I may have developed a reputation in the flea community as a slayer of blood suckers (a Van Helsing of the flea world).

I'm happy to say that there have been no recurrences of the onslaught.

My cats are still colluding with the enemy though. They go outside and roll around in the grass (the real home of the flea enemy) and try to bring them into the house. I know they are not doing it on purpose, after all, they are only "dumb" animals, but sometimes it seems as if it IS on purpose.

So, now, as I try to pad out this Hub to 1,250 words, I am at a lost as to what to do with my cats. If I do nothing, they will soon have a flea party going on in the house again and I will find myself tied to the floor a la Gulliver in that book (what was it called? About him traveling... And Gulliver met the little people who showed him how to get to the Emerald city, but not before they pinned him to the ground and forced him to rethink his life choices? Oh, yeah! War and Peace.)

Well, if I find myself bound and gagged by invading enemies, I will send out an S.O.S. and see who comes to rescue me. Let's hope Nosferatu doesn't answer the call.