I remember those commercials for the little ant motels that were really a trap that would kill the ants as soon as they set foot inside. Much like the Eagles song, they can check in, but they can never check out. Do they make the same thing for fleas? I thought ants were a problem in my house earlier this summer, but my house has given a new meaning to the term "flea hotel".
We were barely three days into our two-week family vacation, when my neighbor told me there were fleas in the house. I couldn't image how bad they were, but when she said that 15 fleas hitched a ride on her leg after she fed our cat, I realized it must be serious. But was it serious enough to forfeit tickets to Blue Man Group, two ball games, a train trip and four pre-paid hotel nights? Not likely! We'll deal with it when we get home, unless our neighbor can catch the cat and squirt the antidote on her neck.
We got daily reports that the food and water seemed to be disappearing, but no sign of the cat when our neighbor entered the house. She even tried sneaking in quietly one night when she saw the cat sitting in the window. But, the cat was on to her and disappeared quickly.
When we returned home, the plan was to unpack, find the cat, then cart her off to the vet. I wasn't even in the house, when the kids were yelling and running out the back door. Oblivious to the cause of this panic, I lugged my first load upstairs. That's when it hit me. Fleas were everywhere, and that was only the living room, with hardwood floors. Unpacking moved down onthe priority list.
My goal was to cleanse the house as quickly as possible. Armed with ant spray, I hit everywhere - starting with my own legs! (I don't care what the instructions said about not spraying it on your own body. They weren't dealing with tiny specks jumping on an off their legs.) I started with the bedrooms. Upstairs first, then the guest room. The whole time, calling nicely for the cat to come out. Given the trauma she endured over the preceding two weeks, I didn't expect to find her anytime soon. I entered the guest room and started spraying behind the door, calling "Oma! Oma! Here buddy!" in my nice 'come to Mommy' voice. I heard a very loud, lonely and pleading cry behind me "Meoooowww!". She was sitting on a desk. She must have thought that fleas can't jump that high. She reminded me of that old cartoon where the woman is standing on a chair to get away from the mouse.
She reluctantly entered her cage, with a bit of encouragement (shoving), and remained there until the vet visit where I was presented with an opportunity to purchase an even more powerful and effect (and expensive) flea spray.
I spent the next hour re-spraying the entire house before I finally sat down. At last, I wasn't afraid to sit on the couch because it was now covered in poison. That made it much safer.
Just over a week later, we have seen very few fleas. But, I know better than to think I have won the war. Round 1: Jennifer 1, Fleas 0.
