marcicat | time to admit it

My cat has fleas. Ugh. I don't even want to type it, but it's true. Not guessing -- I pulled four off him this morning.

I have serious concerns about where he picked them up -- he's an indoor cat in a second floor apartment, seriously, I did not think fleas were going to be an issue. Not sure if the possibility of them coming from someone else's apartment is reassuring (not my fault! ultimately meaningless but a load off my mind!) or awful (doesn't matter how good a job I do eliminating them in here if they're just migrating from elsewhere).

I also have serious concerns about treating them -- it's really hard to convince myself to use a collar or drops that have reviews that include 'my cat almost died when I put this on them.' Cats are basically mysterious furry aliens, their bodies are totally wacky and unpredictable. Also, he's seventeen years old, so I'm already babying his kidneys and liver as much as possible.

Right now I'm using diatomaceous earth and visualization. (Not kidding. It can't hurt, right?) We're in that stage where I alternate between thinking 'yeah, I think this is really working' and 'everything is a disaster and it's definitely not working.' So, I have no idea.

The only positive of the situation is that the cat is loving all of the extra attention. Combing, patting, kitty massage -- basically my every waking moment is spent thinking about the cat or doing something for him. Just as he likes it!