This House is Healing
Honestly, at the peak of the flea situation I was ready to get rid of Cleo. Not permanently, just while she got de-flea’d. I know this thought makes me a bad cat person, possibly a bad person in general. But I’ve always considered myself a dog person who is too lazy and selfish to take care of dogs and therefore has a cat.
This flea thing made me realize that even cats require love when they are gross and sick and possibly contagious. Just like me.
It seemed like nothing we did could break the cycle of her having fleas, then them getting in our stuff, then getting back onto her. Treat her-treat stuff-treat her-treat stuff. More vacuuming than any human should have to endure. Which continues per some 10-day vacuuming Ironman.
My inner Princess Wah Wah thought, “There must be a nice kitty spa we can send her to that will take care of this situation and then give her back when she’s all better.” But we kept her home, closing off Ax’s bedroom and trying to keep her off the new white sectional that once were part of her vast territory.
She seemed to understand, in a weird way. We put a sacrificial beanbag chair outside in a sunny spot for her and she took to her new throne pretty well.
But today is the first day there are no little black dots coming off her when she gets up from the white bedding and I am letting her on my bed without recoil. She gets it. She’s on my lap and purring like a madman.
My cutie wootie sweetie kitty. She’s such a good girl. I’m sorry Cleo! I’m sorry I blamed you for your condition and I’m sorry I balked at taking care of you through the tough time. (P.S. Please stay healthy.)
I’m gonna keep going.