In which we are infested

Project Fleabag is go.

Hello! I’m so happy you’re here.

This month’s biggest news is, I’m sorry to say

fleas. We’ve got fleas.

Well, Noodles and Daisy have.

If you’re a paid subscriber, I apologise for the repetition, but first there was scratching (cats) and then itching (Harry) and then a penny dropping (me).

Followed by £100 at the vets (also me, obviously) and, since then, much combing and spraying and cleaning and hoovering (mostly me, but also the boys).

The cats seem fine in themselves. Daisy seems to enjoy being flea-combed and even lets us roll her onto her sides to get at her belly. Noodles will generally only tolerate a few seconds before giving a yap warning, followed by either a smack or jumping up and stalking away.

And on the upside, the flat has never been so clean. I might have to keep this regime up. (I won’t.)

Project Fleabag (as I have taken to calling it) does mean that we’ve stopped introducing the cats for the time being. They - and we - have enough to deal with.

I did buy a Feliway plug-in and I think there’s been less swiping under Joe’s door? But maybe that’s because Noodles and Daisy are more focussed on the fleas than each other. Or maybe it’s the heat.

The plan was to prioritise getting Daisy more comfortable with being out of Joe’s room, so that we can introduce her and Noods in a neutral space, and Joe’s been carrying her out of an evening to show her around. She is boggled by it.

I mentioned to the woman from the rescue that I was concerned about Daisy being in Joe’s room all the time and she said she lived in sheltered accommodation with her previous person and was limited to a much smaller room, so no wonder she’s nervous about having more space.

When I took Noodles to the vet, the vet mentioned that Noodles had lost a little weight and suggested it might be due to the stress of Daisy. Harry immediately suggested breakfast for Noodles (she was previously only having an evening meal) and Noodles has taken to this with great enthusiasm.

Given that for two years, she hasn’t had breakfast, within just a couple of days she was demanding it and, if I’m not quick enough, she tries to climb into the Felix box and get it herself. A menace.

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What’s that you’re eating?

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