Rum-kitty - my generally abscentee cat, came in tonight and made himself comfortable on the carpet, which made me distinctly un-comfortable. For several months now, Mr. Rum-Kitty has headed for the hills whenever I get out the flea treatment stuff. However, tonight, watching him snoozing contentedly as I imagined a 'leap' of fleas, dancing off of him and into the carpet, I realized I had to do something, you know; like grown a pair.
So, feeling up for the challenge, I snuck over & locked the patio door. Got out the Front Line flea treatment and faced my own personal cowardly ginger lion. The boy took one look at me with the Frontline and raced away from me, screaming like the little sissy girly neutered kitty he is.
Up and down the hallway he raced, head hunched down pathetically, me gallumphing behind him. We raced through the bedrooms.
We circled the kitchen & living room. I was in Olympic medalist shape! Ok, I wasn't but I'll be damned if that kitty was going to outrun me!
Finally I cornered Rum, locking him in the bathroom. To my surprise, instead of Rummy ditching behind the toilet, he crouched into a pitiful little lump of horrified kitty. I think he'd decided if , in fact, I was going to chop off his head, he might as well get it over with quickly. So throughly dejected, Rum held still as I gently applied the flea stuff to the back of his furry neck. I opened the bathroom and patio doors and I retreated to the couch.
In a couple of minutes, crawling like he'd been hit with a brick, Rum crept into the livingroom and struck a pose above below the television.
THIS is what a cheesed off kitty looks like. I flung kitty treats at him and begrudgingly he ate them.
Now, unlike Rummy, I have a big girly pair. Hear the fleas die, hear me roar!