Shoo, Flea, Shoo
Years ago, I babysat our family cat Thumper-an outdoor, mountain cat-in my little San Francisco apartment. With the help of two annoying Norweigian houseguests, Thumper escaped from the apartment, and only after several days of tears and searching did I find him. Two days after his return, the apartment was thick with tiny little jumping, biting bugs. Ugh! Desperate, and with itchy red calves and a sense of general repulsion, I resorted to a no-doubt very unnatural fumigating solution...and despite carpet cleanings, and scrubbings, and vacuuming galore, it never really got back to feeling like home sweet home.
But least Thumper got a non-toxic bath and flea-comb treatment. Not. Fun. For. Either. Of. Us. But in the end, his soft furry bod was a lot more cuddle-up-able than the fumigated carpet.
-Jenifer Morgan...off to admire Nora's talent...
But least Thumper got a non-toxic bath and flea-comb treatment. Not. Fun. For. Either. Of. Us. But in the end, his soft furry bod was a lot more cuddle-up-able than the fumigated carpet.
-Jenifer Morgan...off to admire Nora's talent...




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