A couple of weeks ago our oldest kitty, Andie, decided it was time to get on the proverbial iceberg and float out to sea, saving her loved ones from having to watch her die of old age. Not too many icebergs around Houston so my guess is one of my neighbors will have a very unpleasant task when her body eventually turns up.
Andie was an outside cat, mostly because she refused to use the kitty litter box, the dinning room carpet was much softer. We’d permit her in the house to eat and then promptly show her the front door each day. Bubba, our other kitty is an indoor beastie; in actuality, this is her house, her sofa, her beds and her yard. Bubba permits us the use of it as long as all her needs and desires are provided.
We are the custodians of two dogs as well; Puppy is our little black rug and Roxie is my son’s dog while he’s away we take care of her, that’s been two years now. These four beasties picked up fleas and brought them into the house. We didn’t notice them at first since these fleas were content to feast on beasts. ( I’ll leave it to you to figure out when I should do my Dr. Suess routine )
Last week the two dogs developed some kind of bladder infection which caused them to become incontinent; they were removed from the indoor continent and became outdoor continent dogs at that time. You might wonder where this is leading; those content fleas, the ones who were feasting on beasties now had to look for another source of entertainment, humans.
“Hey, dad, a flea just jumped on me upstairs.” My daughter was home with us for a few days and wasn’t thrilled about sharing her room with other guests. I called my friends at Splat Pest Control, the same folks who come by each month and check for termites and things like that.
“We have feasting fleas, fella’. Can you come over today?” This Dr. Suess thing could get to be fun. I was given a check list of things that needed to be done prior to and directly after having the house sprayed for fleas; vacuum the carpets, take everything out from under the beds, vacuum, take everything out from the closets, vacuum, have the animals dipped, vacuum and make sure everything is away from the exterior walls of the house and then vacuum again.
Yesterday they showed up to spray. I locked the dogs in the garage so he could spray the entire yard first, let it dry and then reverse that so he could spray the garage. He then started upstairs and worked his way down, spraying the carpet on each step. He sprayed our bedroom, the den, the kitchen and worked his way around to the office and out the front door where we all were to vacate for two hours while the stuff dried. Bubba had been locked out of her house and was miffed.
It was time to take my shirts to the cleaners and I loaded them into my truck so that upon leaving I’d have a place to go first. One of the items found during the move and vacuum process was my blue suit jacket that had been lost for about a year. It was nearly brand new and somehow when it got placed on the dry clean stack it fell behind a large wicker basket used to store sewing supplies. In reality that’s where we keep the dead body of the tax collector; we just covered it up with bric-a-brac, ribbon and bolts of fabric to throw off the detectives.
I’d looked all over the place for that blue suit jacket, coming to the conclusion that it had accidentally been donated to Goodwill along with some other items by accident. I was happy to see I’d been mistaken, having replaced it some months ago with a very nice blazer. I tossed the blue suit jacket onto the pile of items going to the cleaners and headed there to make sure I got there before closing time.
Lucy called and wondered where I was, having forgotten that I was at the cleaners. She suggested we have dinner at Bo-Lee’s to help pass the time. “Great, I’ll be over there in a few; just found that the moths have destroyed that blue suit jacket.” There were holes of varied size and shape all over that wool jacket. I handed it to the oriental fellow and explained that I no longer wished to have it cleaned, that he could donate it to anyone he wanted, somebody in need. My guess is I’ll be sitting at a traffic light and some foul smelling guy will be wiping my window begging for a buck wearing my old blue suit jacket.
Jennifer called while I was donating the suit jacket to the laundry and asked what we were up to, hinting that if we were about to have dinner, could she tag along. “Sure, your mother and I are meeting at Bo-Lee’s in a few minutes, come on.” I pulled into Bo-Lee’s and there was Lucy’s car; Jennifer had just parked and was off loading my grandchildren as I avoided running over JJ who was running toward my truck all excited to see me. Bonnie, my other daughter, the one who’d helped get the house ready for the bug spraying job called and asked what we were up to and hinted that it would be neat to have dinner with us. What the heck, “Come on down, Jennifer and the kids are here, why not”.
The two hour time period ended and Lucy and I went home, vacuumed all over again, put stuff back in closets and finished off by taking showers and passing out. That was yesterday.
This morning I heard Bubba at the window letting us know how evil we were for having left her out the whole night. One of the stipulations that went with having the house sprayed was that the cat had to remain outside for 24 hours; something to do with them licking and ingesting the bug spray residue. We fed all the beasties; the cat and both dogs, outside. Bubba was not thrilled but ate on the front porch while the puppies devoured their portions in the backyard.
I quietly prepared a five gallon bucket with warm water, added the dipping solution and carried it to the back yard, placing it strategically next to the wrought iron fence prior to locking both dogs in the garage. I then called for Bubba, “Here Bubba, Bubba Kitty?”, and she came from her hiding place in the bushes all happy and purring.
“Gottcha!” I carefully carried her to the waiting bucket and guided her lower half into the water, ever aware that she was not happy and was struggling to escape my grasp. The location of the wrought iron bars provided Bubba with hope for escape as she wrapped her legs around them, claws extended, hissing and spitting up a storm. I covered Bubba’s top half with a towel that I’d soaked in the dipping solution and held her in the bucket for a few minutes. Lucy and I expected one of our neighbors to call 911 as Bubba shrieked and carried on as if she were being drowned. We let her escape, a straggly lump of wet fur that disappeared back into the bushes.
Puppy, the little black one, was next as we let both dogs out of the garage. Puppy is really too big for the five gallon bucket and only her lower half would fit. We used the same soaked towel to apply dipping solution to the rest of her. Roxie watched and was glad she couldn’t fit in the bucket. We had to place the towel on her and then pour the dipping solution over the towel, working it so it covered her whole body.
So, what’d you do before breakfast this morning?
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