In 1994, newly married (but before human kids) and with our four pets (three cats and a dog), I experienced the worst indoor bug incident of my entire life: near death by fleas. OK, maybe death wasn't so near as eventual, but still. The fleas were EVERYWHERE, and in legions (Lord of the Rings legions, y'all). Pinhead sized demons, they were, and out for a blood meal (x 184,277, give or take).
So, being superior beings, my husband and I annihilated them. It was horrible.
|It was HORRIBLE. I've heard this story before.|
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Let me back up for a bit.
HOW TO GET A FLEA INFESTATION IF YOU HAVE PETS
Reminder: This was 1994 (pets didn't have modern conveniences as they do today, nor did humans have as much information available about external parasites).
The cats were indoors only (apartment life) until the one day I got the bright idea to take Buster (my squishy brown tabby cat) out on a leash. To avoid dragging him down the sidewalk, I carried him into the yard and placed him on the grass. About 15 minutes later, he stood up, took a few steps toward a bush and sat down again. This went on for several days, until eventually, I surrendered and plopped down in the grass beside him. And though I can't remember what we talked about, I'm sure it was life-altering (Buster was my soul cat for 16 years).
|Did you know she had a soul cat for 16 years?|
Anyway, since we hadn't really done anything but sit in the front yard, Buster's occasional but lusty scratching never fazed me. Cats itch sometimes; no big deal (plus he was wearing a flea collar, so there was that).
Two months (and a pet-sitter; my husband and I both had jobs that required weekly out-of-town commutes) later...