We're puppy sitting tonight.
Eldest son and girlfriend are off to Elitch's, so we have a young corgi visiting us. Right now, she's in eldest son's bed, waiting for him to come home.
About an hour ago, sitting here typing away, I felt a hair tickle my sideburn.
And swatted it, 'cause we haven't yet bug-bombed this place after last week's spider.
But nothing on my hand. No spider guts, no stray hair, nothin'.
I repeated that exact process two more times before the memory came to me, slowly.
Into the bathroom, and check the mirror.
And immediately call the wife for help.
I've got a...
Which, after a chase through the maze of my ear, the wife finally captured and mashed into the sink. After a thorough combing of my scalp, the wife declared me flea-free.
Then we went hunting for a corgi.
We found her sitting innocently on our bed, with youngest son and both heelers.
First sweep of a hand backwards up her neck yielded another flea.
Into the bathroom she went.
Where we searched every square centimeter of that poor little puppy.
Yeah, the wife did the search down there.
And this tolerant little miss stayed calm through it all. Like, "We don't go through this bedtime ritual where I live, but oookay. I'm the guest here..."
When I laid her on her back in my lap so's we could check her tummy, she fell asleep.
Corgi's are so adorable. Even when fleabitten.
Our inspection yielded a total of two fleas. And tomorrow, she'll probably end up with a brand spankin' new flea collar.
Right now, I have this dreadful commercial ditty that I can't get out of my mind...
"Ohh, there ain't no bugs on me,
There ain't no bugs on me.
There may be bugs on some of you mugs,
But there ain't no bugs on me."
And the question of whose bed the little corgi will sleep in tonight has been answered.
Eldest son's, of course.
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