Fleas = The Devil

My dog has fleeeeeeeeeas….so does my caaaaaaaaaat. *GROAN*

A couple of days ago, I noticed our wee dog, Giles (prounounced JIles – like on BuffyTVS and yes, named after her watcher, but I digress) was scratching his tummy a lot. I didn’t think too much of it because he’s little and silly and a dog. Yesterday, I noticed him doing it again and I looked at his tummy. It was all red and irritated and I thought, “well, he just needs a bath – he’s gotten into something itchy.” (sooooo naive...)

So DH and Pineapple decided to give him a bath. They hauled him into the tub…and I went in the living room to take advantage of the (relative) quiet and watch Vampire Diaries because I’m fully into television programming that helps me to expand my knowledge base and grow as a person. So, I’m enjoying the historical perspective that the examination of teenage vampire angst provides and I hear “RACHAEL!!!!!” from the bathroom. I leapt up (almost like a vampire – I was THAT fast) and ran to the bathroom.

DH had a panicked look…and said that dreaded word…..FLEAS.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I screamed.

YES! he shouted.

DOGGIE!!!! contributed Pineapple…followed by giggles because the doggie was all wet.

I ran downstairs to pilfer through our pet supplies only to find we had NO flea shampoo. That’s when I thought about the stupid cat. I looked over toward her area in the garage and thought…if GILES has them then that stupid annoying EYRIE cat must have them, too. In fact, Giles probably GOT them from the stupid cat. So, I gathered up all of her bedding and comfies and I tossed them, along with the dog bed, into the wash with about a bottle and a half of bleach and hit the HOT button. I then hollered up to DH explaining that I was on a flea-busting product-purchasing mission and would be back pronto, ran to the car and sped out of the driveway.

TWO stores later, I had $45 worth of crap for cleaning fleas off of animals. I got home to find DH and Pineapple eating dinner and a soggy dog trapped in the bathtub. DH finished up and then went back in to tackle the dog and I went on a stupid cat hunting expedition outside. Pineapple and I called and called for that cat. Usually, you can’t get rid of her – she meows outside of the door and then from the inside once she’s ready to get back out (which is approximately 30 seconds after she’s been let in) and so on, and so forth. We finally tracked her down just as Giles was finishing up and I unceremoniously dumped her into the bathroom. Pineapple was squealing at the dog as he ran around the room shaking and rubbing and rolling when the cat started screeching. The cat meowed LOUDLY and in a PANICKED tone while Pineapple whimpered and said “OH NOOOO – meow meow!!!” and I giggled. And laughed. And had evil thoughts about the cat getting exactly what she deserved….and I was just thinking to myself “I am a terrible person” when I heard laughter coming from the bathroom. Seems that DH thought the cat was getting a bit of what she deserved, as well.

Why is that you ask? Because fleas = the devil. And the cat being evil annoying as hell is most likely the cause of those fleas being an issue at all in our home.

With that being said…anybody want a cat? She’s black and fluffy. Has no manners. Yowls at any closed door. Once inside the home finds the cleanest, whitest, most inappropriate surface to lounge on (most often, Pineapple’s bed – I do a LOT of sheet washing). She sheds like a fiend and when she’s not shedding, barfs hairballs all over the place; despite the fact that we buy her that expensive no hairball food. In other words…she’s a GEM.

Darned cat!

I’m Glad My House Isn’t Clean

I feel like I do just a few things regularly in my day-to-day life. I work. I play and care for Pineapple. I spend time with Dh (not often enough). And I clean my house.

I was cleaning my house…again…on Saturday, and cursing the fact that it is ALWAYS messy. And never STAYS clean. And I’m SO SICK of doing laundry and putting away dishes and scrubbing tubs and sinks and vacuuming floors! AAAACK! Make it STOP!

… … … …but then…

I realized that I was actually glad my house was messy. I was thankful that it wasn’t clean. Why you might ask?

Because, this means that I have a DH. Yeah, he takes his clothes off and leaves them in the floor exactly 5 feet from the hamper. Every night. But that’s just it. EVERY night. He’s there. He loves us and he’s there. And that’s a good thing.

It also means I have a Pineapple. My sweet, precious, beloved Pineapple. So what if she throws her toys all over the house and her favorite pastime currently is emptying any cabinet or drawer she can open?! I’ll just pick it up and put it away – so she can have more fun later! She exists! And she’s MINE! (DH says ‘ours.’)

It means our pets are healthy and safe. So what if the dog eats his food outside of his dish – 3 pieces at a time? And so what if the damn cat repeatedly yowls outside the door to be let in and yowls inside the door to be let out? They make us laugh, smile and sometimes want to strangle them (DAMN CAT!) but they are members of our family and we love them.

It also means we have a home. We have shelter and warmth and food for our tummies when so many do not. So many are cold and hungry and tired. So what if our mortgage is outrageous and often a burden we are barely able to manage? We have a home and I am thankful.

It means I am healthy, alive and my body moves in ways I need it to. I can sweep the floor, wipe down the countertops, fold the laundry and hug Pineapple. I have two arms and two legs – eyes that see and ears that hear. I am blessed.

So, it’s me and you Mr. Mountain of Laundry. You’re going down. And then I’m taking a break to hug my family and tell them just how thankful I am.

Tag – Yer It.

Our cat has a tracking device thingy. Well, not so much a “tracking device” (I mean, if she were to wander off, we couldn’t locate her on GPS or anything) but rather an “if found, return to” implant device she received while at the pound before we adopted her. I was thinking about this the other day and began a conversation with DH…it went something like this:

ME: So, I think we should get an implant for Pineapple.

DH: She’s too little for boobs and why would you only want her to have 1 anyway?

ME: No, Dummy Head – a tracking implant…so we can find her when we want or need to.

DH: Where is she going?

ME: UGH! No! For if something happened to her – you know, one of the words we no longer say in this house – or for when she’s older, we could track her to ‘make-out point’ or whatever.

DH: Wow – did you say ‘make-out point’ – you are oooold.

ME: Can you please be cereal?! What do you think?

DH: Well, I think that first, those things are probably super expensive and we couldn’t afford it and B, it would be a total invasion of her privacy.

ME: Nice!…you’re on board! Let’s DO THIS THING!

OK – so this was a (mostly) fabricated conversation between DH and I but the whole “invasion of privacy” declaration on his part did occur…I just disagree. Sort of.

Let me be clear, I do NOT want to be one of those moms who reads my kid’s diary or says things like “this is MY house and as long as you live under my roof you will follow myrules.” But what if I AM one of them and I just don’t know that, yet. I mean after all, she is only one – I could become MUCH more overbearing. I have time. Also, maybe it’s just because right now she is so little – and the thought of her being in a future situation that could prove compromising or *GOD FORBID* someone deciding they might just need my* Pineapple to complete their own home (and that’s painting an awfully pretty picture of it because I can’t even THINK of the other possibility here…<blech> – just threw up a little) makes me a little crazy but I just think that I might be on to something with this tracking device.

So at this point, I’m sure, dear reader, that we are all in agreement on the whole “Pineapple should have a tracking device” conundrum. 

Here comes the bigger issue: do we tell her about it?

I can tell that you are groaning – but just hear me out. See, I’m thinking that we mess with her a bit. Sort of a headgame kind of thing. Here’s my plan:

1. Show up randomly – but frequently – wherever she is.

2. Do this often enough and when she is not expecting me so she notices a pattern and becomes suspicious.

3. When she asks how I always know where she is, I lie about the whole constant surveillance and stalking thing and say something along the lines of: “I’m a mind-reading vampire and I keep tabs on you because I feel protective of you” ….OK – I love me some Twilight – but damn, that is kind of creepy – moving on…

4. Pineapple begins to think I’m magical or psychic or whatever and then she wouldn’t even TRY to do bad things – like sneak out or delay her curfew – for fear that I would find her anyway with my superpower.

5. SUCCESS! Pineapple is a prude and the plan acts as a deterrent to any negative behaviors!

So really, the device may not even be necessary. If I could be super-sleuthy enough to track her down enough to plant the seed during her youth, it could work. I have a plan. And it’s only slightly stalker-ish and only a slight privacy invasion. Oh who am I KIDDING?! Privacy schmivacy! As long as she is living in MY house under my roof….Damn.

 

*Dear crazy sick-o’s, You come anywhere near my precious daughter and I swear on all that is holy that you will not survive long enough to regret your idiotic decision. Tootles! signed, Pineapple’s VICIOUS and UNMERCIFUL Mommy.