Sanity's Last Stand
With so much bad news coming at us at the speed of a channel click, what I am about to say may seem mundane, but bear with me. My topic is important to those of us affected by the problem. It happens to people everywhere yet is kept hushed and hidden due to the stigma of its subject—fleas. There, I’ve said it. I’m considering entering a 12-step program.
Those of us who love our pets tend to dread the coming of spring. The sun warms the earth as chlorophyll-laden grass sheds its winter drab; trees and flowers explode with buds and blooms, while insects burst forth from their pupa to infiltrate and infest, making life miserable for us humans.
Upon researching how to rid my home of the pests, I found a horrifying definition. “Fleas are blood-sucking insects that feed on humans, dogs, cats, and other animals.” So basically, they are vampires. Think about it. Imagine glamorized vampires as fleas. Fleas, like vampires, have speed and agility not to mention the ability to absorb hemoglobin in copious amounts. If you add four more legs to the giant blood-suckers, tiny Velcro-like hairs all over their bodies, and spines sticking out of their heads you wouldn’t know a vampire from a giant flea. Yuck.
I remember reading a column years ago by the great-and-wonderful, humor columnist wizard, Dave Barry, about an infestation of giant fleas attacking pets. What would happen if fleas grew to the size of ... oh, say ... Mr. Right? Of course, when considering my 6-foot 2-inch husband as a humongous flea, I have to picture it cooking hotdogs over an open campfire. Or fishing for and cleaning crappies. As a human flea, he could just he could just walk right up to the front door, ring the doorbell, come inside, and make himself at home.
Ding Dong! “Hi, neighbor! I thought I’d watch the big game with you. Yumm … is that a vein pulsing in your arm?” the giant flea asks while peering at the human neighbor’s biceps.
I’d fully expect the neighbor to soak Mr. Right and his exoskeleton with a deadly (to bugs) spray. “Die, you disease-riddled vermin! Die!”
I apologize. I’ve moved into the realm of an overactive imagination instead of trying to explain how to rid yourself of the Black Death perpetuators. Some might recommend exiling my pets to the great outdoors. That is not an option for someone devoted to her four-legged family members. We’ve sprayed, powdered, dipped, and shampooed the house, the animals, and the yard. A good flea/tick collar is priceless, even at $60 a pop, for my furry babies. It took a while but after scratching, slapping, and pinching little six-legged intruders off the animals and us, we finally bombed the house. Ahh.
So, after all my previous inconsequential speculation, I do know that a flea is not going to grow as big as a human. My house is too tiny to invite them in, but if we must vacate due to fleas, can my Mr. Right and I stay with you? Can we bring our dogs?