Black Pepper

My life is filled with black pepper flakes at the moment. It all started with too much pepper in the potatoes. Now my fat white cat is sporting pepper flakes on his back.

A cat wearing pepper? Yes, you are guessing correctly if you said fleas. Uhg. I noticed it when he was sitting on my lap yesterday morning. I’m fortunate that he’s white so they were obvious. I checked my tiger and couldn’t see them at all. Don’t get me wrong. They’re definetly there. I know because they showed up on the flea comb. But I’m getting ahead of myself. My first action to combat this was to dig under the sink for some spray flea stuff I knew I had. I took off the cap, pointed it at the cat, spritzed, and wondered where the cat went. Hmmmm. Chase cat into bathroom. He’s hunched on the bath mat glaring at me. I shut the door and approached him slowly. I spritzed again. He cowered into the corner trying to make himself as small as possible while merrily spritzed away. Have you ever seen an obese cat try to become a turtle? His head seemed to shrink as his body seemed to expand. Poor fat cat. When I was done torturing him, I went after his brother. My tiger tensed when I grabbed him, but otherwise held still for the onslaught of smelly flea powder.

I finally got to Walmart later in the afternoon to buy something stronger and a flea comb. I added this to the back of each of their necks and then proceeded to comb black pepper out of them. Over all, a gross experience. I’ll probably have to spray the carpet and before all is said and done, but I’m prepared to battle this enemy on the hills and in the dales. Wherever I go, fleas shall die!

In the meantime, I have spiky, greasy haired cats. Yeah for pestisides.

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