Flea bath

The only thing worse than the indignity of getting a flea bath is the indignity of having fleas.

Last night, we all underwent flea treatment ... first we all took a Capstar tablet. I spit mine out first like in the cartoons, but eventually I agreed maybe it was for the best. Then we were all coralled into the bathroom as Mom and Dad watched for us to scratch off the fleas or for the fleas to fall off, which they did, and some big ones at that! After a while, the baths started, smallest to biggest. Maggie wasn't too bad, and Dad got almost the recommended five minutes of lather on her. (On a side note, five minutes? On a wet cat? What sadist wrote those instructions?) Josie was good too, not a cry out of her even when Dad rinsed her under running water. Huggy Bear was pretty vocal and uncooperative and his bath was quick as a result. I took from Huggy Bear's que and was also vocal. Since I was a kitten, I don't think I've ever been that wet. Mom and Dad kept trying to towel us off, but we just seemed to stay wet despite their best efforts.

Afterward, we were rewarded for our patience with some hairball treats (the Wiskas Temptations -- crunchy ones). Finally, just before bed, we got our Frontline treatment to make sure all this work wasn't for nothing. I just hope this does the trick because I really don't want to go through all this again in another three weeks.