Sorry to anyone totally grossed out by this post. The joys of pets and all. Last summer my cats got some out of control fleas, I assume from the fact that the neighbor cats LOVE my backyard. And my side yard. And my front porch. (That photo is the neighbor's cat and mine looking at a third cat visiting in the alley behind my house.) Anyway, a couple of months of Front line, and we were all happily flea-free once more. Today, however, I found a flea on Max. UGH! Aren't they supposed to die when I have to live through 20 degree weather?
Anyway, I'm not actually that grossed out by fleas. Probably it's my 39 years of being around cats, or perhaps the fact that they don't seem interested in biting me. But lately they send me into OCD ruminations that go something like this: I'll carry a flea egg over to my sister's house, her cat will get fleas, she'll have to use pesticides and/or her kids will end up with tapeworm and have to take some icky medicine. So this week, when my brain goes there, I will say SO WHAT! For now, it's just one flea, and I don't feel like pesticiding the cats if I don't have to. It's a good place to practice not ruminating.
OCD and SSRI-Induced Apathy
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