Grit and Fleas
My last year in college, my roommate and I found what we thought was an ideal apartment in a beautiful leafy neighborhood near the stadium. Unfortunately, when we moved in, we found out we had extra roommates. They were all named cockroach. All 185,000 of them.
I became adept at killing bugs, always careful where I stepped, what I did without the lights on, and where I left food. Eventually the little old lady who lived below us began bringing in help and the cockroaches went away, or at least began to be more polite about keeping to their part of the house: the walls.
It is experiences like these that gave me some of the grit that I am so proud of. Mice running through my former classroom- no problem. Dead bunnies or baby squirrels that the cats bring home- interesting to look at. Many leeches sucking on a foot- I am good at this one. Ticks- child's play. Snakes- weird, but as long as they aren't as big as I am- okay with me.
Most recently, our cats have given me the privilege and challenge of tackling another pest: fleas. I now know them intimately. I know about broods, flea eggs, their life cycle, and how they look in each phase of that life cycle. I know what they look like when they are dead, when they are in my bed, when they are in the tub after giving the cats one of many baths, and also what they look like when they are sliding down my body when I am in the shower post-cat bath. I know how they jump, how to find them in the cats' fur, how to vacuum every inch of this house, and how to wash everything that is even remotely fabric in our house. At this point I know everything about them.... except... well, really how to get rid of them.
I know we will eventually win the battle - I someday will no longer be itching my ankles like I have a have a rare and incurable disease, and wondering about every little black spec I see, or worse, feel. But until then, I have learned to treasure the moments where husband and I are in the bathroom with our cats laughing hysterically- soaking wet from head to toe, flea combing the cats - engaging in a sort of play by play commentary of each one we find, and in good humor calling Leo, Flea-o.
So bring it on. At least I can laugh about it, AND now know that someday as a mom I will be ready for anything and be totally tough.
I became adept at killing bugs, always careful where I stepped, what I did without the lights on, and where I left food. Eventually the little old lady who lived below us began bringing in help and the cockroaches went away, or at least began to be more polite about keeping to their part of the house: the walls.
It is experiences like these that gave me some of the grit that I am so proud of. Mice running through my former classroom- no problem. Dead bunnies or baby squirrels that the cats bring home- interesting to look at. Many leeches sucking on a foot- I am good at this one. Ticks- child's play. Snakes- weird, but as long as they aren't as big as I am- okay with me.
Most recently, our cats have given me the privilege and challenge of tackling another pest: fleas. I now know them intimately. I know about broods, flea eggs, their life cycle, and how they look in each phase of that life cycle. I know what they look like when they are dead, when they are in my bed, when they are in the tub after giving the cats one of many baths, and also what they look like when they are sliding down my body when I am in the shower post-cat bath. I know how they jump, how to find them in the cats' fur, how to vacuum every inch of this house, and how to wash everything that is even remotely fabric in our house. At this point I know everything about them.... except... well, really how to get rid of them.
I know we will eventually win the battle - I someday will no longer be itching my ankles like I have a have a rare and incurable disease, and wondering about every little black spec I see, or worse, feel. But until then, I have learned to treasure the moments where husband and I are in the bathroom with our cats laughing hysterically- soaking wet from head to toe, flea combing the cats - engaging in a sort of play by play commentary of each one we find, and in good humor calling Leo, Flea-o.
So bring it on. At least I can laugh about it, AND now know that someday as a mom I will be ready for anything and be totally tough.
posted by KLOU | 8:15 PM
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