I need to vent.
After spraying and vacuuming and spraying and bathing in turpentine and spraying and vacuuming and washing every single item in the house fifty times in a row, the cat’s little buggy friends have returned.
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.
On Monday morning I found a few clumps of cat hair in the bedroom and hallway. There was a small chance it was just stress as a result of my practically husband being gone. Since he doesn’t like me all that much, the cat is never too pleased when he is abandoned to the wilderness that is my tender loving care.
I crossed my fingers and performed a small sacrifice to the cat gods in hope that this is all it was. However, the clumps have increased in number and size. It’s becoming obvious what little fur the cat grew back has again fallen out.
Once again, the cat has a completely bare ass. I would take a photo to show you but I think he has been through enough. For now, I will preserve what is left of his feline dignity. But he’d better get his act together or his butt is putting on a show!
I just don’t get it! Both the cat and the dog have had their treatments every three weeks on the dot. Even at the exact same time of day! Down to the minute. We have them on the strongest prescription flea medication. (Not to mention the most expensive.) Our vet assured us Revolution would do the trick. We have been to the vet three times in as many months. The highest frequency I have ever gone to a veterinarian in all my pet-owning life. At our last visit, she was positive they were gone and we were on the road to ultimate flea freedom. (Sweet, sweet freedom.)
It looks like we’ll be heading back to the cat’s version of Hell one more time. I swear he is doing this just to spite me.
*sigh* In reality, I do feel really bad for him. Clearly he is ultra sensitive to nasty bugs. Is it possible these fleas have been able to develop an immunity to the spray and medication? I just don’t know what else to do. Short of putting him in a kitty bubble, we may just be screwed. Poor little guy.