Thankful for dead bugs...

the names in this post have not been changed to protect the innocent, because the guilty deserve to be charged. I'm feeling no grace here, people.

The Complete Thought household mourns the presence of two completely indoor cats. I could tell you why they are completely indoor, but that would mean a 647 word post on what grief does at the 23rd month, but we do not want to go there today.

Being completely indoor, you would think we could keep away fleas. Hardee-har-har, she maniacally snorts. Once a year we seem to perversely celebrate the Fall Flea Festival. Without candy corn or face painting. I could tell you all the previous attempts that have been made to rid the house and cats of fleas or rid the house of cats, but that would involve a 1,647 word post on what insanity does in the 36th-39th years. And we do not want to go there either.

Invitations must have been mailed out about 2 1/2 weeks ago because the fleas showed up in force on Monday. Knowing that all previous attempts of flea riddance have summed themselves up into full house fogger fumigation being the only cure, I resigned myself to one day this week being (as my mom-in-law does say) "one mell of a hess".

Yee-haw, Sleep In Thursday was picked. Because "hesses" aren't really fun unless you're also overly tired. You and the three boys that is.

Oh, and lest I forget, Flea Riddance 2009 also includes the special premier event of force feeding flea shocker pills to two cats. I'll be there in a minute.

This morning I rose way too early to get started on all the prep work. Everything we've ever put our mouth on, might put our mouth on, or would like to put our mouth on has to be covered, hidden, or plastic wrapped. This explains why I find the bananas in the oven at 375 next to the plastic microwave cover. All on fire.

I had purposefully neglected to tell the boys that Sleep In Thursday was canceled last night because I could not handle the truth. Waking them this morning was all sunshine, guns n' roses. I did go so far as to bribe them with day old vanilla iced doughnuts though to try and take the edge off. Starbucks with Vanilla Chai Spice for me.

Then preparations for the cats were next. I had put off the deed as long as I could. Chess rounded them up into the kitchen so I could prepare the concoction of flea shocking stuff. Blue or Puff Daddy or Stupid Cat or Duke of Hazards will eat anything hidden in Fancy Feast so he was quickly choking down his potion. But Raisin or Khaki Cat or Me-ow or Still Stupid But Older and Knows Mom's Tricks Cat was very wary of her potion. She sniffed it and nonchalantly began to slouch away.

Chess caught her again so the real fun could begin. First I tried to take the pieces of pills and manually put them on her tongue. She spit them out. I put the pill pieces into wet cat food and put them on her tongue. She spit them out. I put the pill pieces in wet cat food and with one hand prying open her mouth and the other hand with wet-cat-food-pill-pieces-slathered finger that I stuck at the back of her throat. And she spit them out.

This was repeated 631 times. With baby spoon. With more than one finger. With more cat food. And, she spit them out. Meanwhile, Blue is thoroughly enjoying himself in this show and hoping he could get in on the action. So he did by licking up the wet cat food Raisin had spit out onto the floor and Chess' pants and my shoes.

So I just gave him her bowl and went at her with the second pill. Which mercifully I got into her on the second try. Probably because I was finally holding my tongue right.

Into the boxes they went. Clean the cat food spit upon kitchen and out the door to board the pets. Did I mention our two guinea pigs as well? Oh yes, I gave Pele and the Chairman the job of getting them into the portable pen and into the minivan. There may have been some yelling of instructions.

17 hours and 43 minutes later we are cleared to return home for the super! fun! job of cleaning up all the dead bugs that were apparently co-existing quite happily with the fleas. On the way back home with all the now flea free pets, the boys asked if I could smell that funny smell. I've had olfactory fatigue with that van for so long, I answered no.

Once home, Chess took the cat boxes straight up to the laundry room, their home for the day, and we began to unload them. Raisin was out first and looking for who she wanted to bite first. Next came Blue, who as I opened his box, the "smell" hit me. He had pooped and peed in. the. box. In the 12 minutes it had taken to pick them up from the boarding place and drive back home.

Ohmygoodness. So now I'm holding big, puffy, long-haired stupid cat with a big wad of youknowwhat attached to his back end, his back legs pedaling which is spraying the youknowwhat around and we do not have the litter box ready yet. Chess takes off running to get it. I'm yelling. Blue is yowling. And Raisin thinks maybe she should bite me for canceling Sleep In Thursday. And also for repeatedly sticking my finger down her throat.

I swing youknowwhat fuzzy buttocks over to the linoleum side of the laundry room and wait for Chess. He arrives just in time to see USA Network call and tell me they have decided to do a spin off of Monk, with me as the star. It was nothing but bleach time then, baby.

Clean the cat. Clean the laundry room. Clean the sink. Clean the cat again. (Why can we put a man on the moon but cannot teach a cat to use a bidet?) Clean and scrub and clean and scrub my right hand. Which, btw, I'm only using now for typing and then will never use again.

Fall Flea Festival 2009 has ended. Hopefully. I'm smacking into next year the next one that scratches. And that goes for the humans too.

I am thankful for dead bugs. And it only took me 1089 words to say it.