..Well quite a bit it would seem.
Ems is scratching. It can only mean one thing -- fleas.
Nastly little critters fleas, but I thought all the scratching was rather entertaining and she did seem to enjoy it with contented accompanying groans. Heck, I like to scratch too and thought little of it.
And that's the thing -- we felt nothing and haven't suffered any bites.
Ems' dire condition was brought to our attention by Lana & Jon who were supposed to be looking after her last weekend while we were away.
So, we pitch-up home on Sunday afternoon only to find Ems already in the house -- in addition to assorted flea sprays, disinfectants and potions.
They claim that she worried their kitten who took-off and hid up a tree all weekend, but I know differently..
Fearful that they would never see little Moustache (yes, that really is the poor cat's name) again, they shunted Ems out to our mutual dog-walker's care asap to head-off infection in the House of Dudding.
Well, we're due to cook them lunch this Sunday.
Let's just see if they demand a vet's declaration of clean-bill-of-health before crossing the threashold.
Bring out your dead, indeed..
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