When you lie down with dogs, you get fleas.

Sometimes I wish that I'd already started work, but today isn't one of those days because for the past few weeks, we have had a crisis at our apartment.  Namely, we have been infested with fleas.  Gross.  I know because I was sitting on our den floor a few days after Christmas and had one jump onto my hand.  Since then, there have been a few more similar events.

After establishing that we do have a problem, we narrowed down the culprit.  I knew it wasn't me since I wasn't itchy (at least I wasn't until I found out what I found out later in this story), so that leaves two family members as possible flea bags:

Sean..

And the guilty party (watching it snow outside like he's got nothing to hide)

I know that Mogatu is the guilty party because shortly after seeing the flea in the den, I saw one on him.  I haven't seen one on Sean.  Anyway, initially I got the cheapest flea medicine on the market, gave it to Mogs, and started a daily flea-removing regimen with a flea comb (the one-by-one method if you will).  Sean's uncle Mark evidently also thinks that the one-by-one method is the way to go because he suggested ridding ourselves of fleas by wearing white socks around the apartment while carrying a cup of sugar water, and as we see them, picking them up and drowning them.  While the thought process is good, I googled what to do in search of a less painstaking method.  That's when I learned that only 5% of the household's fleas actually live on the animal.  I removed 26 fleas from Mogatu yesterday over several flea picking sessions, meaning that in our apartment live another 520 fleas plus eggs plus larvae.  So now I'm itchy, and still am.  The experience is similar to having a common cold only to go on WebMD and find out you're dying.

So the first thing that I did this morning was head to Petsmart to wage war on these bugs.  I moved all of the furniture, did some serious vacuuming and spread flea stuff everywhere.  Washed all sheets/tablecloths/his toys, cleaned the couch, all cushions, all pillows, all chairs...my living room is a mess.  And after you do it, you and cat have to stay out of the room for two hours, so currently, fleabag and I are camping out in my room (thus giving me tons of time to bore you with flea details and make it utterly obvious that I have no life).  After that, he'll get a flea bath and some more expensive (effective) medicine, and I'll do the flea regimen in my room the same as the den.  So after all of this work that I'm dedicating my day to, they better all die.

Seeing as how this all occurred mysteriously on an indoor cat right after Christmas, it's my belief and not Sean's that Mogs' friend/Sean's family's dog Max may have brought him fleas after going outside for a poo.  Mogs wasn't being flea treated at the time and loves Max and I'm sure that he slinked his way around Max just enough to accept all of his fleas.  Lesson for Mogs: when you lie down with dogs, you get fleas.  Lucky for him, his mom has plenty of time to dedicate a day to de-fleaing.

A bathed and hopefully flea-less Mogs post-bath, probably thinking about how lucky he is to 

live in a south Charlotte apartment with 2 people who love him