Flea Before Me!

The dogs have been scratching.

A lot.

A lot a lot.

I've been checking them every day for the past month for any sign of fleas, and never being able to find any, passed it off as summer skin and mosquito bites.

Then I found it.

While Monty was on his back and I was searching, I found a single brown insect of the blood sucking, jumping variety.

This took me from 'objective, defensive' mode to, 'freaking out, calling husband moaning and totally over the top' mode.

I washed every scrap of fabric in the house. I put more flea killer on Charlie, I grabbed the cat and combed her until we were probably both as scratched up as the other. I inspected every corner of the house wearing white socks, scuffing along the floor, watching for tell tale signs of 'fleadom'. I vacuumed, moved furniture, vacuumed again, move it back and vacuumed again. Twice.

When Zach got home, I didn't stop. I pulled the baggie of supplies he brought home from his hands, put the flea collar on Monty, and insisted on using the new, unchewed comb on every animal- after I sprayed all the clean bedding with flea killer.

I probably went overboard, as I continued my rampage into the next week. Despite only finding one other flea on Monty the night before, and no other signs of them whatsoever, I vacuumed every day, twice a day, and combed all the animals as often as I could get my hands on them.

Before long, I grew tired of constantly checking, cleaning and combing, and the animals of me poking, prodding, and detaining them from activity. We all had a big fight, then went to our respective corners to lick our wounds.

So I realized I was probably making too much of a fuss over it, as I often do, and settled down to a new chore... Of which I will write about tomorrow... Maybe. I still check them about once a day, and they're happy with that. No signs yet, but if ever there are, I'll be ready!

God bless and see you soon,

Joelle