In an earlier post I wrote about our cat, Pinkerton, sneaking out at night.
Two days ago, C says, "Why's Pinky so jumpy and twitchy?"
Sure enough, he's twitching, scratching, and licking himself madly. He pauses, looks around with his eyes wide, and then repeats the twitch, scratch, like cycle.
Fleas. We have fleas.
That darn cat brought fleas into the house.
The next morning, A, M, and I went to the petstore to get Pinky a dose of flea meds and a new collar, complete with a blue bone-shaped tag that states his name and our phone number. A wanted to get him a pink sparkly collar, but I convinced her that he'd prefer a red one with fish on it. C says I should have let her buy the pink one as further punishment for Pinky. Maybe I should have.
Pinky hasn't escaped since we added the collar to his wardrobe. He's been too miserable trying to get it off. He spends half of his time trying to figure out why bells ring every time he moves.