my cats like to mentally fuck with me

About a week ago, Paul was petting Inigo and looking at her fur, when he said to me, "She's got a flea." Now, if you're a catowner, you know the terror this sentence can cause, especially if you're an experienced catowner.

If you've had a flea-ridden cat before, you know that you will have all the joy of: bathing a cat, combing a cat daily, putting a collar on a cat, and washing all of your bed sheets and rugs numerous times.

So, first, Paul and I flea spray our cats. I, stupidly, decided to buy an environmentally friendly flea spray. (I'm not a dirty hippie, I swear. I don't even own anything that smells vaguely of patchouli.) It smelled hideous and the scent stuck the cats' fur, to me, to our bedding, and to the walls of the house. After three days, our cats were still scratching, scratching, scratching, so we took more drastic action and I bought some special flea and tic ridding shampoo.

That's when the real fun began.

If you'd like to think that washing an eight pound animal should be easy, I'd like to slap you. It takes both Paul and I to even dream of attempting it, and even then, we practically perform gymnastics as we manuever around the cat being washed. "No, move your hand so I can soap her right shoulder blade!" "Did you get underneath her back left paw?" "AUGH! She's trying to climb up my chest to get out of the sink!"

You try to wash a cat by yourself. They're mostly composed of joints and slick fur, all the better for escaping you and diving wet and miserable and shivering across your floor.

But, we did it. Then, last night, I came home. I think I like to picture our cats having this discussion.

Jade: I hear the car. Are you ready?
Inigo: I was born ready! I'm scratching. I'm scratching. Is she in the house yet?
Jade: She's not even out of the car yet, moron.
Inigo: Oh. I've stopped scratching.
Jade: START! START! She's coming up the driveway.
Jade: Shit, she's checking out the flowers on the side of the house. She can't see you anymore.
Inigo: Stopped scratching.
Jade: She's taking the longest route ever to the door.
Inigo: Now?
Jade: Not yet. Oh! Wait for it... Go, scratch in the window.
Inigo: She's looking at me through the window and she looks worried.
Inigo: In she comes, haha, look at her face. Okay, I've stopped. Your turn!
Jade: Scratching on!
Inigo: HAHA, look at her. Hang on, I'll start too, now!
Jade: I think she's going to freak out. Keep scratching!

Paul and I have not yet found another bug on them. I really think they're just fucking with my head.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Or maybe they're not f-ing with you.