Ah spring. Warm temperatures, gardens in bloom, nests filled with robin’s eggs . . .
Every day the chance to glory in the return of foliage to bare trees, seedlings popping through the moist soil, apple blossoms in the orchards and …
Woe to those who do not see
your evil coven in the tree
Such a wicked curse
made by itching even worse.
cured not by the ablest nurse
Or any amount of purse
woe to who’er conjured thee
from my wrath you shall not flee.
My salvation, hopefully …
Who invited these dudes to my yard? And who gave them permission to pig out on my cyclamen? I have asked them nicely to party elsewhere. I have threatened to fatten them up and sell them to the French restaurant but no. And so regretfully, slimy dudes, eat shit and die!
But this spring, winter has arrived. Bloodsuckers have breached the walls of Castle Kitty and forced King Kitty into the crypt. He thinks he can escape the final, prolonged agony of itching but Bloodsuckers, well they can smell warm blood. Duh. (apologies to Game of Thrones – which has become a soap opera don’t you think?)
Can you see him? We couldn’t as the doors to the cabinet were almost shut.
Those of you who are pet owners have probably guessed who is after the cat.
Mister Flea who bears a stunning resemblance to Beetlejuice in both character and elusiveness.
And so this year, Die Mr. Flea!
It’s really not fair because the cat never goes outside and probably picked up the infestation during his last stay at the Kitty Motel. It will be his last stay there.