Oh he's sweet but a psycho
Mar. 7th, 2022 01:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwynUgh, Blues is swarming with fleas. I noticed a little over a week ago that he was scratching and biting a lot, so I checked his white ruff and instantly saw a flea. Then I realized I had fallen down on my cat mom duties and hadn't given a flea treatment in a while (because what is time these days?), so I gave him a dose. It should have killed them in three days, but he was still majorly infested; in fact, it didn't seem to do anything but make them propagate like mad. Normally, Revolution is super effective. I had to go get a new flea comb and I bought a couple, and have been trying to constantly comb the fuckers out of him, but it's really hard because he turns vicious really fast and I don't have anyone to help me.
I'm trying to hold this squirming, heavy, very strong cat who really wishes you would STOP RIGHT NOW, get the comb under the water to drown the fleas, and dry the combs off for another round, and it's very difficult especially when you don't trust your cat because they've almost put you in the hospital before. I know what kind of damage he can do. I end up singing that Ava Max song "Sweet But a Psycho" while I'm doing it.
And I just feel like the world's worst cat mom. He's rarely been bothered by fleas, so I just...forget to give him his treatments. But he loves to escape me under the deck and that is likely to be the source of the fleas. They're such creepy awful things, I hate them--I've found a couple blood spots here and there from where they've relentlessly bitten him; most of the time, they like white fur and places like necks, around ears, lower belly, all places he has white fur. But on him, they stay on his back, right where the damn Revolution gets applied! And on his shoulders, which has much coarser fur.
I just feel so guilty. He's clearly miserable, and doesn't understand that locking him in the bathroom with me combing the crap out of him is helping. I sneak up on him all the time when he's sleeping and try to catch him when he's less cranky. But I have to wait till the beginning of April to give him another treatment, which seems very far away (also what the fuck? It's nearly April???).
I'm trying to psych myself up to get back to my WIP about Steve and Bucky in a virtual reality, which I have left gathering dust for months now. It's very hard mentally to find my place in it. I've had so much work and due to scheduling snafus, ended up having to work on two fiction books at the same time and then the magazine guys sent over a bunch of articles, and the stress was kind of killing me. But now I think I have a little reprieve before the next wave of articles/magazine proof and book come in, so I'm hoping I can handle a bunch of other stuff that's been back-burnered for a long time. I haven't written any words in 2022! My AO3 stats are blank!
Nature is healing, at least in a small part of the world: The Girl Scouts are selling cookies in front of the grocery near my house; I should try to walk up today and get some. I wish I had enough dough to buy more than just a couple boxes, but after hearing reports that people are bullying Scouts selling cookies, I want to support them even more than I usually do.
I'm trying to hold this squirming, heavy, very strong cat who really wishes you would STOP RIGHT NOW, get the comb under the water to drown the fleas, and dry the combs off for another round, and it's very difficult especially when you don't trust your cat because they've almost put you in the hospital before. I know what kind of damage he can do. I end up singing that Ava Max song "Sweet But a Psycho" while I'm doing it.
And I just feel like the world's worst cat mom. He's rarely been bothered by fleas, so I just...forget to give him his treatments. But he loves to escape me under the deck and that is likely to be the source of the fleas. They're such creepy awful things, I hate them--I've found a couple blood spots here and there from where they've relentlessly bitten him; most of the time, they like white fur and places like necks, around ears, lower belly, all places he has white fur. But on him, they stay on his back, right where the damn Revolution gets applied! And on his shoulders, which has much coarser fur.
I just feel so guilty. He's clearly miserable, and doesn't understand that locking him in the bathroom with me combing the crap out of him is helping. I sneak up on him all the time when he's sleeping and try to catch him when he's less cranky. But I have to wait till the beginning of April to give him another treatment, which seems very far away (also what the fuck? It's nearly April???).
I'm trying to psych myself up to get back to my WIP about Steve and Bucky in a virtual reality, which I have left gathering dust for months now. It's very hard mentally to find my place in it. I've had so much work and due to scheduling snafus, ended up having to work on two fiction books at the same time and then the magazine guys sent over a bunch of articles, and the stress was kind of killing me. But now I think I have a little reprieve before the next wave of articles/magazine proof and book come in, so I'm hoping I can handle a bunch of other stuff that's been back-burnered for a long time. I haven't written any words in 2022! My AO3 stats are blank!
Nature is healing, at least in a small part of the world: The Girl Scouts are selling cookies in front of the grocery near my house; I should try to walk up today and get some. I wish I had enough dough to buy more than just a couple boxes, but after hearing reports that people are bullying Scouts selling cookies, I want to support them even more than I usually do.
