Her situation is so bad she has even tried tearing her fur out to get some relief. I won’t use the bee-killing flea meds. Yes, they work. But every time they are used we are breeding fleas that will eventually become immune to the neonicotinoids. Which means we will have to use stronger poisons in the future. And I did mention the bee-killing, right?
So what to do? Since my prayers went unanswered the job now falls to Science. I realized I have two problems here:
1. Controlling the flea population
2. Relieving my cat’s misery
If anyone has ANY Earth-friendly suggestions I am all ears. Here’s my plan so far:
Ad astra per alas porci (to the stars on the wings of a pig) –John Steinbeck
Our adventure began with an innocent plan — to right a sagging fence post. Halfway through the disastrous first attempt (and knowing that disaster means bad star) my husband wondered aloud, “Why are we doing this?”
He could be Robert Frost, I thought. Something here does not love a wall – or at least the effort required to keep it standing. I mumbled something about making things right. And immediately reflected on my inner compass’ weird compulsion to always aim for utopia. Is this the inner hell where all lapsed Catholics end up — to endlessly carry an impossible, sometimes pointless, boulder of hope?
Trigger Warning. We had no idea what we were doing and if that kind of thing offends you then read no further.