Thursday, November 17, 2011

To Flea Or Not To Flea


Bathing a cat is interesting.  Bathing all three cats in one evening is, um, VERY interesting.  Why on earth would I want to bathe the cats, you may ask?  Well, we found a few fleas. . . .  We haven't had fleas on the cats since we got Sophia as a kitten, almost 15 years ago.  That was easy:  flea powder and brushing, and voila!  No more fleas, and no problem since then.  We're not sure how this problem started now. They're all indoor cats, so we think we must have tracked in some flea eggs from outdoors. 

So what are three wet cats?
Armageddon cubed?

So, the war began.  After flea dusting the carpets, washing everywhere the cats slept, medicating them with that stuff you put on the back of their necks (twice, since the first treatment did NOTHING and we tried another product), and combing them like crazy every day for a week (and having the neurotic urge to scratch every time we see the cats), we decided to dunk and scrub them to finalize our campaign of extermination.  Which really means that *I* got the pleasure of bathing them, but we all knew that would happen.  I love Tech Guy, but he'll be the first to admit that the cats will let me do things with them that no one else can, so I had the best chance of emerging from the arena of combat bathroom with my face still attached my skin relatively intact.  He manned up and did the flea dusting/vacuuming thing, so we were sort of even.  Kind of.  Well, not quite, but whatever. 


Bathing B. C. was comparatively easy:  he was all injured dignity and sorry, bedraggled "Why me?" over the affair, but he didn't fight me.  Sophia lived up to her kittenhood nickname - "Little Miss Barbed Wire."  She wasn't attacking me, but she wanted OUT of the tub.  For being the frailest and smallest of the cats, she was the most agile in trying to evade the suds.  She was determined to climb any available support  to accomplish that feat, including climbing my arm and slithering down my back while soaking wet.  But, since her escape was AFTER I rinsed her, I let her go without a fight.  Molly was a three-hand job, but I made do with two.  She's the youngest, strongest of the cats.  She also complained the loudest about the indignity of being bathed, and wanted no part of being dried off, so she got to be damp much longer than the others, who let me use the hair dryer on them.  So now we have three clean, fluffy, flea-free cats.  (Oh please, let there be no more fleas in our house, EVER.)


Update:  Sitting here at the computer, brushing Sophia while I proofread, I just found a flea.  I think I'm going to cry.  And bathe the cats again this weekend.  Maybe I should sell tickets to cover my incipient medical bills.

2 comments:

  1. How frustrating!! Poor kitties, they cannot enjoy the fleas, and yet the bathing is probably just as annoying for them. :/

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  2. OMG! I've bathed one cat before and ended up with scratches up both arms for my trouble. To do three cats.... wow!! You're much braver than I! As the saying goes, "you're a better man [woman] than I am Gunga Din."

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