Well my friends, the hits just keep coming. As you know, if you read my post, The Fly Swatter, I had a fly infestation in my home recently that nearly drove me nuts. Not a good look, me chasing flies around my family room, swinging the swatter like a mad woman, which I was. Mad, that is.

The good news is, I must have scared them away but instead, fleas have taken their place. Let me proclaim here that I absolutely despise fleas. I’ve had pets in my home since 1984 and although my dogs and cats have had fleas on occasion, thankfully none have hopped around the house or onto me and guests.

Now don’t get me wrong; my luck has changed. Thirty-nine years being flea-free and that incredible streak has come to an abrupt end. What could have caused this to happen? Well…

Who can I blame for this new infestation? Ah ha, my two foster cats! They’re the only new things in the house, unless you count my recent Amazon delivery (which I don’t), so I’m assuming it’s the cats.

I vacationed at Lake Tahoe a couple of weeks ago while two pet sitters fed my motley crew. Neither of the sitters mentioned being eaten alive by fleas. So imagine my surprise when I sat at my office desk only to be accosted by an onslaught of maniacal fleas.

My two foster cats happened to be rooming together in my office, so I’m guessing they were the culprits. Why it took that long for fleas to begin dive bombing right then, and not before, who knows? All I know about fleas is, they’re annoying, itchy, and annoying. (I thought that word warranted being mentioned twice.)

Anyway, that first day back, the attacks began. No welcome home — nothin’. Then, while I innocently sat at my desk, my bare ankles started itching. I reached down to scratch them when I discovered a battalion of fleas heading up both calves, like warriors heading into battle. Holy crap! I started picking them off of me until that appeared futile. Still, they came as though on a mission of do or die. So I thought, okay you fleas, prepare for the latter!

I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl, filled it with water and a squirt of Dawn dish soap, then set out to catch me some fleas. The first thing I noticed, though, is how fast those little pests can hop away. Just as I’d move to grab one, it leapt out of reach, as if taunting me.

This went on for hours. As soon as I put my feet back on the floor, fleas appeared out of nowhere, clinging to me again. I’d stop my work, pick off a few, drop them in the bowl, and watch them, without one bit of guilt, sink to the bottom.

Outnumbered, I realized I didn’t stand a chance, so I ordered a 4-pack of flea bombs and a 2-pack of Zevos. I’ve used three flea bombs so far with only a slight improvement. Alas, I’m still a climbing apparatus for fleas. The Zevos are doing well collecting tons of these pests so far, but still they come, and keep coming.

I’m now more familiar with the markings on my calves than I ever imagined I’d be. I’ve never inspected them to this degree, as I had no reason to until now. Little red dots, a scar from stitches, some freckles, brown spots…it’s all there.

All I can do, unless someone has a better suggestion than flea bombing, is simply this: live to fight another day. These fleas don’t know who they’re dealing with and they’re wrong if they think I’ll give up. Never say die!

Unless, of course, we’re talking about fleas.