Number 734: Work out whether or not your cat is trying to kill you
Damn you William Catner!
It’s been a stressful couple of days. After the reflexology session to Monday I took our cat to the vet. We never intended to be cat owners but during a particularly cold snap at Christmas this kitty showed up on our front door. We felt sorry for him and took him in while he tried to find his owners. I went knocking on doors with my eldest daughter and we put signs up in our local shop but no one ever claimed him. When the thaw came he skipped out the back door and we thought that was it, he was away home again, but a couple of hours later we re-appeared so I guess whether or not we wanted to be cat owners he had adopted us. We were a bit lax about it though. We fed him, dewormed him and deflea’d him but it took us a couple of months to get around to organising pet insurance and then the very important vaccinations and neutering operation. On Monday it was vaccination time.
Imagine my mortification when the vet was examining him and then let out an “eeeeew! he has fleas!”
Really she looked horrified. Like I’d brought a turd in and dropped it on her examination table. I couldn’t understand it, the cat had been flea treated only about a fortnight ago. I investigated matters further and discovered that my husband had used some Bob Marten spot on de-flea stuff I’d bought (and never used because I heard it’s rubbish) instead of the Frontline that was sitting in the cupboard next to it.
When I got home with de-flea’d cat I began the task of treating the house. I then discovered our vacuum cleaner had broken down, so after spending £50 at the vet I had to go and spend another £50 buying a new hoover (and yes, it’s an actual hoover). I then started stripping sheets, vacuuming, dosing everything in flea spray, and citronella spray. I sprinkled a couple of bottles of salt over the carpets (my best friend swears by this for killing flea eggs). I’ve seen 2 fleas since then, all in my bedroom, all in the process of biting me. I hate this. My skin crawls at the very notion.
To top it off I discovered the next morning that I had an assignment to do for my masters course that I knew nothing about, and it was due the next day. Oh and I did a pregnancy test and got a BFN (that’s a big fat negative for the uninitiated). And my thermometer is dying, my chart looks awful and I think it’s fairly safe to assume that I am not in the two week wait or enjoying any kind of menstrual cycle whatsoever.
Yesterday was spent in a panic trying to get the assignment done, bribing my children with all manner of food to keep them quiet and out of my way (it was bad, really bad. there was crisps, biscuits, ice cream, chocolate and dinner care of Dominos). I needed to relax and break the tension last night though so I stuck my family in my best friend’s car and we headed off to one of the locations where they are currently filming Game of Thrones.
We had an amazing time on the beach. We took our shoes and socks off and paddled along the waterline all the way to the far side of the beach where we found eight foot tall statues of the seven gods of Westeros just waiting to be burned. It was (and I don’t use this word lightly) awesome!
The assignment is done, the flea war continues, the cat has been consigned to sleep in the kitchen, I’ve got a new thermometer and life goes on.
And the nerd in me is absolutely delighted.