cinderflealalala

Yesterday, River went in to the spa vet to start his heartworm treatment. It was an overnight visit, so we thought we’d begin our war against the fleas at The Compound. We started with my apartment, taking Smo’s advice and setting off flea bombs upstairs and downstairs. This meant putting up everything that I didn’t want poisoned. I figured my dishes were a lost cause, since I have shelves and not cabinets, but I decided that wouldn’t be a huge deal, because I could just wash them all anyway. Mainly, I wanted to hide Lazlo and Rivers toys and dishes, and any of my food items, so we wouldn’t be poisoned. The quickest and easiest way to do this was to jam everything into my refrigerator.

We set the bombs off during dinner, and two hours later I opened all the windows to air the place out. Lazlo was pent up in his kitty carrier inside the Home Office at Becky’s. This meant several visits from Margot and Guinness to his carrier, as if to say Hey Look! There’s a kitty in there! Hi! Then Lazlo would hiss at them, they’d creep away, and then they’d come back five minutes later. Hey Look! There’s a kitty in there! Hi!

Once the air was clear, I got to vacuum my apartment, which as you all know is very thrilling for me. However, it’s not quite as thrilling when your apartment is 95 degrees with 100% humidity. Still, it was satisfying to think of all the dead fleas I was sucking up. Then I returned an extremely annoyed Lazlo back to his apartment and cranked up the a/c.

Today was Becky’s turn to the flea assault onto her house. Margot and Guinness’s crates were brought over and they hung out in my apartment for a few hours while their home got bombed. Once they left, Mr. Becky and I went to the spa vet’s to pick up River. He must’ve had an okay time there, because he wasn’t standoffish this time. He seemed excited to go home, which is counterproductive, because we’re supposed to quell any and all exitement for the next month while the heartworms are killed off and absorbed or passed from his body. Should be fun (not!) because he’s a fairly happy and energetic dog. We put him in his room and, since he’s a gay dog, I put on some Madonna, which chills him out, oddly enough. A “Material Girl” and an “Angel” later, he was dozing while I set to washing everything in the kitchen that got poisoned.

I decided I’d do the spring cleaning that I put off until summer. When it’s hot out, like it is in Houston, it’s better to be inside cleaning.

About timothyjlambert

Timothy J. Lambert is allegedly a writer.
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