Wednesday, November 25, 2009

If all dogs go to heaven, is there a special place for me in hell?

I just gave Franc and Kina their monthly treatment for flea/tick/ear mite/heartworm/hookworm/roundworm/for-the-price-it-should-clean-the-litter-box-too. We have a sort of routine for this by now. Kina is smaller and has more secret places to hide, so I get her first. I have to sneak up behind her and take advantage of her desire to cuddle. (This may be why she's not big on the cuddles.) As soon as the tube is empty, she takes off. Franc catches on to what's happening, and makes a dash for it. He has to take a fat kitty-sized dose, so I sit on him. And then they both hide under the bed to sulk and probably lick it all off.

I thought they were just being difficult about taking medicine, until I dripped a little of the solution on my cell phone case. And it melted the plastic.

So toot that horn, Advantage, for your 100% percent effectiveness, because enough acid will kill anything! And I now I fear PETA may be coming for me.

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