If my roommate doesn't kill her cat
I just might.
Lola, poor thing, apparently has fleas. I say apparently because I have yet to see any signs of the critters in the apartment, from Lola scratching or cleaning herself more frequently, to unexplained little bumps on the occupants of the space, to the salt and pepper specs associated with eggs, larva, and the fleas gross eating habits. Notta. Nothing.
But regardless, my roommate has claimed a full on assault on the fleas. All linens, rugs and pillows were laundered. Nary a piece of fluffy floor wear don the bathroom linoleum until the fleas are conquered. In the span of two days, Lola was treated to three baths, and at least one dose of flea medication. At least one. I suspect two of the three month treatment was applied as two were missing from the box of medication and this is Lola's first experience with the nuisance. Floor, tile, walls were all scrubbed down in a sanitation frenzy. And Lola has been quarantined in the living room, denied access to her previous sleeping spot on my roommate's bed.
I can understand the cleanliness. I can even understand the medication to an extent. But this is what boggles my mind. After torturing the cat in the name of feline health, she has been essentially abandoned. My roommate, I suspect completely creeped out by the thought of the blood suckers, refuses to sleep in the apartment. She shows up in the morning, grabs lunch, feeds Lola and heads to work, not to return until the next morning for her next 10 minute visit.
Lola is beside herself. Freaking out. And occasionally vomiting in her kennel. You never, ever, leave a sick creature alone like that. Cats may be self sufficient, but I've watched this cat around my roommate. This cat adores her. And the lack of attention, on top of the trauma of the fleas is driving her to annoy the only other person in the apartment.
Lola and I have never been at odds. She is a very sweet cat. Particularly when opening a can of tune, setting stinky shoes off to the side for her to roll on, or eating yogurt. Usually she's very mellow and quiet.
Not so since my roommate's war. Two nights ago, I shut my bedroom door as always...closed but not tight enough for the latch to catch. In her desperation for attention, Lola forced the door open and I was woken at 6am to a cat crawling on my chest. She was sleepily ejected from my bed, I again shut the door, harder this time, and crawled under the covers. She yowled a while. With a scrap and a bump, she forced the door open again and proceeded directly under the bed. After a few minutes of poking at her from above to get her out I pulled the door shut til I heard the click and headed back to bed. For at least the next hour, Lola proceeded to yowl outside the door, body checking it and scratching at the base to try to get in again.
That morning getting breakfast I got to observe her in action as she cried for my roommate and assaulted her bedroom door. She head butted the door awhile to no avail. So a second attempt...She literally lay on her side, back paws braced on the floor as she tried to shove it open with her front paws.
Poor thing.
I know my roommate makes these brief morning appearances because of the subtle changes. Lola is now accessorized with a flea collar (is more medication necessarily a good thing...especially a medication formulate solely yo kill certain organisms...) A new towel has been placed in her crate. Food is in her bowl. The litter box has yet to be cleaned (and I suspect that box of grainy grit and cat hair is the perfect hiding spot for elusive flea eggs). And Lola's cries are becoming more incessant as it appears mommy doesn't love her anymore.
Heaven forbid she ever have children. I hate to see what would happen if the kid came home with lice...
Lola, poor thing, apparently has fleas. I say apparently because I have yet to see any signs of the critters in the apartment, from Lola scratching or cleaning herself more frequently, to unexplained little bumps on the occupants of the space, to the salt and pepper specs associated with eggs, larva, and the fleas gross eating habits. Notta. Nothing.
But regardless, my roommate has claimed a full on assault on the fleas. All linens, rugs and pillows were laundered. Nary a piece of fluffy floor wear don the bathroom linoleum until the fleas are conquered. In the span of two days, Lola was treated to three baths, and at least one dose of flea medication. At least one. I suspect two of the three month treatment was applied as two were missing from the box of medication and this is Lola's first experience with the nuisance. Floor, tile, walls were all scrubbed down in a sanitation frenzy. And Lola has been quarantined in the living room, denied access to her previous sleeping spot on my roommate's bed.
I can understand the cleanliness. I can even understand the medication to an extent. But this is what boggles my mind. After torturing the cat in the name of feline health, she has been essentially abandoned. My roommate, I suspect completely creeped out by the thought of the blood suckers, refuses to sleep in the apartment. She shows up in the morning, grabs lunch, feeds Lola and heads to work, not to return until the next morning for her next 10 minute visit.
Lola is beside herself. Freaking out. And occasionally vomiting in her kennel. You never, ever, leave a sick creature alone like that. Cats may be self sufficient, but I've watched this cat around my roommate. This cat adores her. And the lack of attention, on top of the trauma of the fleas is driving her to annoy the only other person in the apartment.
Lola and I have never been at odds. She is a very sweet cat. Particularly when opening a can of tune, setting stinky shoes off to the side for her to roll on, or eating yogurt. Usually she's very mellow and quiet.
Not so since my roommate's war. Two nights ago, I shut my bedroom door as always...closed but not tight enough for the latch to catch. In her desperation for attention, Lola forced the door open and I was woken at 6am to a cat crawling on my chest. She was sleepily ejected from my bed, I again shut the door, harder this time, and crawled under the covers. She yowled a while. With a scrap and a bump, she forced the door open again and proceeded directly under the bed. After a few minutes of poking at her from above to get her out I pulled the door shut til I heard the click and headed back to bed. For at least the next hour, Lola proceeded to yowl outside the door, body checking it and scratching at the base to try to get in again.
That morning getting breakfast I got to observe her in action as she cried for my roommate and assaulted her bedroom door. She head butted the door awhile to no avail. So a second attempt...She literally lay on her side, back paws braced on the floor as she tried to shove it open with her front paws.
Poor thing.
I know my roommate makes these brief morning appearances because of the subtle changes. Lola is now accessorized with a flea collar (is more medication necessarily a good thing...especially a medication formulate solely yo kill certain organisms...) A new towel has been placed in her crate. Food is in her bowl. The litter box has yet to be cleaned (and I suspect that box of grainy grit and cat hair is the perfect hiding spot for elusive flea eggs). And Lola's cries are becoming more incessant as it appears mommy doesn't love her anymore.
Heaven forbid she ever have children. I hate to see what would happen if the kid came home with lice...
posted by Unknown at
6:23 PM
2 Comments:
Oh the poor dear. Bella had fleas when i brought her home but one regular bath (to discover the fleas) and one flea bath did suffice - although she hadn't yet been let lose in the apartment. And the stray kittens I brought in each had 1 flea bath a piece and some Flea medication ant that was it. (granted they are easier to bathe when they're babies). Tell your room mate there's a treatment called Stronghold (I think) made by Pizer which is just a few drops of liquid applied to the skin at the back of the neck that makes animals blood poisonous to fleas for at least 6 months. Flea collars are unnecessary and I expect bad for animals and people. I know some volunteers who got sick from their cat's flea collar. It may have been a cheaply made Romanian collar but they said it was like living in an apartment where someone had sprayed a full can of Raid.
I hope your roommate returns to give her cat some love. They need it - especially after the trauma of a bath.
If you feel like it, crate the cat in your room at night where she can see you...that way she won't be in your face, but at least she'll be with you. That's what I'm working on with Kizzy...he's learning to understand that sometimes I'm watching TV but that doesn't mean I'm ignoring him.
I can't believe your roommate is freaked out by a couple of fleas. Honestly. I've picked three ticks off myself since I got the dog. Thank you long walks through the woods. One time I was in the shower and I was like "hey, I don't remember having a freckle there...oh."
Poor cat. I hope mommy comes to her senses soon.
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