Death to Fleas

´╗┐Death to Fleas

Summers here in Texas can be brutal! The intense heat, the humidity. Not a summer passes without hearing of at least one person collapsing from heat exhaustion. I am fortunate to possess what every Texan aspires to own: air conditioning. Now that might seem as mundane as, say owning an indoor toilet, but truth be told, there’s still many people here in Texas today who do not have A/C. In fact, until I was thirteen, I also lived in a house with no A/C.
But I digress from the subject of this entry, which is FLEAS. I only mention that about the heat here in Texas as an example of however bad it may be, it does not even come within spitting distance of the horrors of FLEAS.
See, with the coming of summer, the heat and humidity, we also get, you guessed it, FLEAS. Humans might dislike excessive heat, but these blood-sucking creatures LOVE the heat. It’s their breeding time. People may do most of their conceiving during the winter months, but not FLEAS! Oh no, they like it hot, apparently a fan of the movie.
Anyways, we have three cats, one inside cat and two outside cat. Now, dealing with these fleas every year, you’d think that we would have become smarter about it. But no, each June when the FLEAS start hatching, we do nothing to take any precautions until it’s too late. What can I say? We’ve slept since last summer.
So, our outside cats pick up the fleas, and presents them to our inside cat. Yes, I know what you’re thinking: Why don’t you keep your outside cats outside? Like I said, the FLEAS only get bad in early summer. The rest of the year they are not a problem; so we forget their existence until, you guessed it, it’s too late!
For the last two weeks, I have been cleaning my house much more than normal. I’ve been vacuuming my WHOLE house every day! Constantly shaking flea powder on the inside cat, Brat. I should just throw her fleabag butt out the door, but she’s just too pretty! A holy terror for sure (hence the name) but beautiful nonetheless. Besides, she’s just a baby still, and it’s not her fault she has FLEAS. Poor thing, she runs and tries to hide whenever she sees me coming toward her now!
So, back to cleaning. My house SHINES, it SPARKLES! Not a dustbunny anywhere. Martha Stewart would be proud. But the FLEAS remain. I’ve spent at least fifty dollars on flea and ant death powder to put on carpets and floors. The darn things won’t sit still long enough to be killed. They jump and jump and jump all over my SPARKLING house, evading the death powder. How inconsiderate is that? My daughter, complaining of killer dust clouds in the house, ran away to a friend’s house last weekend where she could, presumably, breathe without gasping.
But still they’re here.
I was tired. I was discouraged. I was just about to admit defeat and remove myself to another lodging and let the FLEAS take over this house.
THEN the fleas crossed the line. All the time I had been engaged in open warfare with the FLEAS, I had not felt any personal animosity towards them. They did their best to suck my blood; I did my best to stop them. Just the way of nature, right? I didn’t hate them; not them personally. Of course, I hated it when they bit me, but I didn’t hate them, even though I was doing my best to kill them.
But then, like I hinted at above, they crossed the line. They, in their arrogance and perceived superiority, committed an error they will soon regret. One of their bloodsucking soldiers, either ignorant of or completely disregarding the rules of warfare with humans, that is, to stay within the bounds of feet and ankles, decided to reconnaissance my son’s ear. He quickly paid for his transgressions.
But it does not end with only the one transgressor dying a horrible death (being squashed between my fingernails). Oh no! Because now my blood is boiling! My hatred is rampaging! I will hunt down every single flea and make them ALL pay for the sins of the one!

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