They Got Over It

We traumatized the cats last night. It could have been worse.

My brother brought home flea collars for the girls. He'd been waiting until they were mature enough that the chemicals in the collars wouldn't unduly harm their development. They're almost a year old now and about as grown as they're likely to be (except, maybe, girthwise if they take after mom).

They haven't been especially vexed by fleas although at least one of them always seems to have a few and they pass them around on a rotating basis, kind of like kids with a cold virus. Since none of them ever go outside, we assume there is a reservoir in the carpet and have sprayed it several times but haven't been able to get at any survivors already occupying a cat or two, except by brushing which my brother does on a regular basis. Brushing catches the flea but does nothing to eliminate any eggs the cat may already be harboring.

Anyway, last night he came home with three brand new flea collars. Mittens knew something was up as soon as he started prepping the collar (which involves stretching it to release the infused chemicals) and took off for parts unknown. Paribanour was not as swift on the uptake and I was able to nab her and hold her more-or-less still while my brother threaded the collar and slipped it over her head. As soon as I released her she tried frantically to bite it off but discovered it is impossible, even for a cat, to reach under your own chin with your tongue.

Just then Jasmine came in to see what the fuss was about and I grabbed her. Unfortunately, my brother hadn't gotten the second collar out of the box yet, let alone prepped it, so I wrestled with the cat who, unlike her daughters, and despite being fat and soft and squishy, was perfectly willing to try biting and clawing to make her escape. She was also, while squirming and snapping, impossible to pick up so I just pinned her to the kitchen floor until my brother could slip the collar on. Then we went searching for Mittens.

Fortunately for us, she had picked a hiding place that was both obvious and accessible. She also opted for a strategy of passive resistance which did no good for her at all. My brother cradled her in one arm and slid the collar on.

All three cats spent the rest of the evening scratching, not at fleas, but at the collars. Two of them seemed a tad too loose and I was afraid they might be able to lick the collars and ingest some of the insecticide so I tightened them a bit which also seemed to stop most of the fussing.

Of course, being cats, this morning they have forgotten all about the collars and act as if they've worn them forever.