Don’t Look at Me, It’s The Dog’s Fault

I questioned Bubba this afternoon regarding how the fleas ( linked via title bar ) got in the house as she was relaxing on her ottoman. She was miffed that I’d interrupted her Sunday nap time and commented that at least the house smelled better with the dogs in the back yard. She claimed that it’s our own fault for letting those * ( expletives deleted ) dogs wander around in her house to begin with, bristling at the idea that I could even consider her an accessory to the recent flea issues.

I put down some of that fresh carpet stuff and realized that it was irritating everyone’s eyes; enough so that it would have been better not to have sprinkled it at all. We have to vacuum every day for a while anyway; this way at least there was something to pick up other than dead fleas. I hauled all the trash to the curb, emptying the kitty litter box as it was part of the annoying odor. Bubba shook her head, something about, “Mine doesn’t stink”. I’d already taken my hearing aids out so she might have said something else, who knows with cats anyway.