Flea (and I don't mean the guy from the Chili Peppers)
I woke up this morning, patted Flash on the head, went downstairs, gave her
some food, put on her collar, gave her another pat, and then what happened?
I saw a flea. In case you didn't catch the enormity of that, let me capiltalize:
A FLEA! ON MY BABY! Immediately my morning unfolded before my eyes: take the
dog for a quick walk, drive to the vets to pick up some anti-flea medication,
throw Flash in the tub for a bath, and finally, apply aforementioned medication.
So, that where we're at. I'm waiting for Flash to dry off a bit before I go
ahead and use "That Which Will Kill the Fleas That Have No Business Being
On My Dog". Flash knew the minute I came home that a bath was in the immediate
future because she immediately hit the floor in "Submissive Pose I" and looked
up at me with her one eye all giant and Bambi-like. She can be very manipulative.
She got tossed in the tub anyway, but I totally appreciate her effort. Right
now she's stretched out on the living room carpet, somewhat towel dried, and
happily chewing away on a rawhide. Ahh, the drama.