I Thought Zebra

It’s quite possible Cleo has fleas, not a mysterious skin irritation or brain disease causing her to groom with unusual fervor.  The saying “when you hear hooves think horses, not zebras,” comes to mind.  The simplest diagnosis is often right. I’m taking her to the vet this afternoon because I don’t actually see any fleas.  But then again I see scratching.  And it’s flea season.  So there might be a connection.

She’s never had fleas before, so I guess I thought she was somehow immune.  And actually, the moment I called the vet she seemed to mellow out a bit, started intimidating the neighbor’s cat with fierce noises and spiked fur.  Became even more aggressive about lap-sitting.

It’s remarkable how un-miserable she really seems.  But something is up, and most likely it’s curable.  So we’ll cure it and move on.  I’m gonna keep going.