The Bugs
Colorado has had a wild May and June. There has been more rain than we've seen in years, and two days ago a tornado touched down in Highlands Ranch. Dude. What? And the hail...ever since the storms of 2017 we've been on edge. This week's deluge was not a disappointment.
The side effect of all of this is the bug infestation. Usually it is too dry for the bastards. But when it's rainy, bugs bugs bugs and more bugs. Some that we've never seen before. In 2017 our house was invaded by millipedes. Really? Where'd they come from? Sometimes the bugs are just bigger---giant prehistoric mosquitos and dragonflies, very Land of the Lost. Sometimes it's the numbers: hoards of beetles or ants. Sometimes they're in the wrong state. For example, cockroaches are not a Colorado thing, but we found a tiny one last week. Also fleas. We are not a big flea state.
The morning after George ran out the door, to the neighbor's and into to open space, H woke up covered in bug bites. George had not been in her room, but her main coon cat sleeps with her, and those floofy things are an easy landing spot for fleas. Based on the look of the bite, we determined fleas. Because that made sense in the moment, even though there was no physical evidence or scratching among the animals.
* We made Lisa buy flea bath for her dogs.
*We bought flea baths, flea killer meds and flea brushes for our animals
* We called our exterminator to move up our quarterly appointment and added a flea bomb
* We bought a flea bomb at ACE hardware, figuring we'd bomb the bedroom. We've only had a flea issue once, years ago, when Sundown brought them home from the groomer. It was a Pain In the Ass. But because it was years ago, I could not remember how we did the bomb, or where we took the animals for two hours, or how we even managed. The packaging says to turn off the gas and the pilot light, so I did, but then panicked because even though I have turned the pilot light back on before, in my current state I was sure I would blow up the house.
So. The day of the terminator visit, which I wrote down as between 1 and 2 pm, my cousin had to schedule herself for the afternoon off -she works from home-and I had to borrow additional cat carriers from a neighbor. I went to Target that morning to buy a fan and an umbrella for the deck, since that was the only place myself, five cats and five dogs could safely remain for two hours.
The terminator arrived at 12.30. We were unprepared, he was thirty minutes early- I thought. I had written it down wrong. I had to scramble to get cats in carriers. H took hers to her sibling's apartment for a visit, so I only had Diana and Houston to wrangle into the carriers. I still have the scratches on my arms. Sock is an indoor/outdoor old lady, so she was allowed to free range. Sock is our elderly cat. Did I not mention her name? You're smart, you understand context and I'm sure figured out it was not a cotton sport sock. For reference our cats are Sock, Houston, Diana and H's are Boo and Pickles.
My cousin left her dogs with me because I said it wasn't a big deal (foreshadowing) that I could handle five dogs in the back yard in 77 degrees with little shade. She had to take the afternoon off because she works from home, and left to have lunch with her grandson. The terminator returned at 1 pm and I was I set up on the deck, phone fully charged to follow the Titan search, two dog bowls of water and two water bottles, two cats in carriers, leashes, a new chair to sit in and fans. I had thought of everything.
By 2pm nothing was OK at the Martin house.
Even though the temperature was only 77, it felt like 100 on the deck under the umbrella. Both cats were panting, even with the fan on them. Sock was under the deck until George figured out where she was and then he ran her out, Paco running excitedly behind him to join the fun. I decided to move us all to the garage, where at least it was shady and out of direct sunlight. During the move, I discovered that Paco did not have a collar on which to attach a leash ---with so much fur, I had no idea---and my cat carrier containing Houston broke. I reassembled it the best that I could, schlepped the cats through the gate, down the sideyard, across the front steps, around the mailbox, up the driveway to the garage. A trek to which I am unaccustomed. It does not look that far from inside the front window. I placed the cats facing one another in the garage while I retrieved the dogs. I had to carry Paco.
What happened next will be neighborhood lore forever. Let me just snapshot it here:
*Sock decided she need to go inside right the hell now so started screaming at the front door. A neighbor came over to see if everything was OK. The gentleman repairing the fence three houses down looked up to see who was torturing a cat.
* George escaped from the pack, dragging his leash as he tore down the street, past the nice Fence Man. I called his name, and he continued to run. I continued to stand on the sidewalk, tangled up in three leashes, holding a Pomeranian.
* I closed the garage door hoping to find a way to collar and leash Paco, only to almost suffocate all of us in the heat.
*Houston broke out of her broken carrier and disappeared.
* I hobbled to the garage trying to manage the melee and shut the door. George was still running down the street. Within minutes the garage was stifling and I realized I did not have a collar small enough for Paco.
So.
I opened the garage as my neighbor was ringing the bell. She asked about Sock, who she called a "Poor Sweetie" and who was howling at the front door. I told Sock repeatedly that she cannot go in, the house is poison, but Jim says she doesn't speak English, so she did not understand. I was holding a Pomeranian and had three dogs on leashes, winding around my legs. I told her my cat has escaped, my cousin's dog has gone rogue, my house was being bombed for Unidentified Bugs---we assumed fleas, but none of the animals were actually scratching, Paco doesn't have a collar and have you heard any updates about the Titan submersible?
She blinked. "Why do you have so many dogs?"
"They are my cousin's, she's staying with us. I had to kick her out to bomb the house, she works from home." I tried to stuff as much exposition as possible into a few simple words, hoping my vocal inflection and state---dogs and leashes binding me to the spot---would convey my perturbation.
She looked me over. I was in a tank top, oversized pants and had not showered. I could not move due to the leash restraint wound around my legs. Togo thought I was a sled, and was trying to pull me. Paco was in the crook of my arm, hanging by his head, only, as I only had one arm-the other hand was holding the leashes. I smiled at my nice neighbor who was standing barefoot with her mail in her hand, looking quite concerned.
She blinked again, I assume to clear either her head or to refocus the shit show in front of her. "Where is your cousin?"
I replied at full volume, yelling over the sound of three dogs snarking at each other as they simultaneously would around my legs, and shifting Paco in the crook of my arm, "She went to lunch because I said I could handle this."
She paused. "How can I help?"
She put on her shoes and tracked down George as I put everyone in the back yard, then began calling for Houston. She brought George back to the yard and I thanked her profusely, asking if I could buy her a car. She smiled, but that concerned look never left her eyes.
I clearly was not capable of handling this.
Scene.
