War Is Hell

In my ongoing battle to rid the cats of fleas (which I still maintain got in when Chuckweasel let not one, but TWO dogs into the apartment), I did something incredibly stupid last night.

I gave Callie Jean a bath.

See, CJ has that big, fluffy, almost water-proof fur (which made Dear Sweet Mama think she was some kind of Turkish Swimming Cat — I can now assure you, SHE IS NOT).  What that means is she doesn’t really get BITTEN by the fleas, they just kinda use her like Sigourney Weaver to incubate their eggs in her warm, soft fur.  Now that all the cats are wearing flea collars (the getting-on of which was ALSO a treat for me, let me tell you), the ADULT fleas are all dead, but babies keep hatching off Sigourney/Callie, so into the bath she went.

Now, I have a stand up shower stall and a separate bath (I don’t know why, all I know is it’s a good way to get water all over the place).  So, being the genius that I am, I took one of those styrofoam coolers like Omaha Steaks come in and set it in the floor of the shower, half-filled with water.  I got the shower head down (my first action in any new house is to install one of those shower heads on a hose so you can wash your butt), got the cat shampoo ready, laid down a bunch of towels… then went and got the cat.

She was less than pleased.

Luckily, she took her rage out by clawing the styrofoam cooler and yowling like a banshee… not by removing large quantities of blood from me!  And we got it over with fairly quickly, although when I opened the bathroom door, all three little kittehs were out there staring like, “Mommy and Mommy are fighting!  Should we take sides?”

I got her all dried off and calmed down, and she finished the job by grooming all over because I had obviously not done her hair right, and I think she’s forgiven me now.  One interesting fact, though — no matter how clean you think your cat is, when you wash her in a styrofoam tub it will end up full of disgusting cat slurry that will probably contaminate the groundwater.

Pray this works though… otherwise Ti-Jacques is next and he’s already providing aid and comfort to the enemy (he bites and claws when you go to pick a flea off him).  I told him and told him I will not tolerate this counter-insurgent bullshit from him, so now we’re in an uneasy detente… basically a Kiet-Nam.  Or maybe Flea-llujah?

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22 Comments

Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, Calpurnia Jean, Chuckweasel, GENIUS!, Kittehs!, La Vida Loca, White Man's Medicine

22 responses to “War Is Hell

  1. I’ve been dreading giving Esme a bath in my standup shower. But I guess there’s hope. I hope all those flea babies die soon!

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    • I know, what the hell is this? Wouldn’t you think flea babies would be more susceptible to flea collar poison than the adults? I think they do die off eventually, but not before they get the chance to breed more flea babies. Fucking Circle of Life.

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      • also, the styrofoam cooler thing REALLY worked! much better than the time I tried to give a cat a bath in a standup shower that had a door by basically sticking him in there, shutting the door, and standing on a chair to squirt shampoo and water at him. THAT was an unpleasant door to open when it was done, let me tell you.

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  2. Dear Sweet Mama

    Lock them cats in the bathroom, fling in a flea bomb, run like hell. Make CW open the door to let them out. Or even better – make him lock them in and you “save” them by letting them out. I bet all four will lie on his cat allergy head next time he is asleep. Vengenance is mine, says Calpurnia Jean, cat god daughter of one of the crazier Roman emperors ( I couldn’t think of a name and almost wrote Jules Verne for some reason, probably no coffee yet). Tiberius!!!

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  3. Y’all you are so brave as to give a cat a bath deserve medals, in my opinion. I’d just hose her down with some Frontline and wait for them to die. My darling (?) dog and the cat who hated me, peed on everything upholstered and is no longer living with us, caught fleas from my downstairs neighbor’s dog (we had the upstairs of a house, he the down), and of course I appropriately went postal on him and called the emergency vet, who told me to come in, they’d treat the dog, but GIVE ME A PILL TO GIVE THE CAT. WTF VET? I suggest that YOU give Satan the pill, and I’ll hose down the dog. Have you ever given a cat a pill? I’m scarred for life. And I’m not talking about the one on my hand were he attempted to go for my jugular.

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    • I’m scared to death of all those flea dips and drops ever since I had a cat who was VIOLENTLY allergic to them… he’d start foaming at the mouth and shit. He was fine once you got the stuff off him (in fact, he’s the one who got shut up in the shower and sprayed from above), but it was AWFUL.

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  4. Yeah, I always went with the drops on the back of the neck madness when I lived in the flea infested south.

    There are no fleas in Colorado.

    Not that I’m bragging or anything.

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    • The best thing about the Army sticking us in the middle of the Mojave desert was no fleas or ticks. The first time I had to buy Frontline I felt like I needed to take out a short term loan. That stuff is not cheap. 😦

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      • Leauxra, let it be known… you suck. And you may not have fleas, but don’t you have whatever it is that gives you Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever?

        And Kelly — you’re right! I could dip the cats in gold to keep the fleas off cheaper than I could get the Frontline!

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  5. I’ll take twenty below temperatures and July hail storms any day over fleas. I am sooooo glad I don’t have to do that. For one thing, Oliver cries like I have forsaken him and clings to my neck when I give him a bath. I hits that mama nerve and makes me want to cry. No baths for Obi yet, knock on wood.

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    • Callie Jean was pathetic at first… but that soon gave way to rage. Now she just looks at e reproachfully whenever I get near her… it’s like she KNOWS it may happen again.

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  6. Oh dear, when I bathe my brood it always involves me holding a cat close to my body with one arm while bathing them with the other, they whine and occasionally wiggle but my grip is a death grip and there is NO ESCAPE MUHAHAHAHAHAHAAH

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  7. That foam cooler was a great idea! I once had to bathe a cat for skin issues — years ago — and ended up crying because of how badly he scratched me up. Also because I’m a weenie and he kept looking at me like, “How could you do this to me?!?”

    I’m allergic to fleas and hate them with a white hot passion. We have indoor cats so no flea problems (knock on f-king wood).

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    • My cats are all indoor cats as well — BUT I have Chuckweasel God of Stray Dogs to contend with! And my worst cat-related injury is a toss-up between the time one bit through my lip to get the potato chip I was currently eating, abd the time I (foolishly) tried to retrieve a piece of raw chicken from an ex-boyfriend’s cat because I didn’t want him to get salmonella or whatever. He bit through my EN-tire thumb right beside the nail… and I like to passed out it hurt so bad!

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  8. So you can “wash” your “butt”… right.

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  9. Fleas are the fucking devil.
    Cats are the fucking devil (when wet).
    I’m so happy retarded cat doesn’t get who is the cause of him being wet when he gets bathed. I blame his stupidity.

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  10. I *so* wish I had thought of “Flea-llujah.”

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