waffles smothered in…

butter.

nope.

fleas.

That’s right, my weekend involved Waffles smothered in fleas. Not butter. [to be clear, we are talking about, Waffles, my dog. not the tasty (non-keto) breakfast item.]

How my fucking dog managed to get fleas in a climate that doesn’t normally house fleas is beyond me? But, also, I can’t say I’m surprised. My life is just a series of “only you, Bree” events. Fleas included.

Maybe I do have to take some responsibility here, as I am a terrible doodle owner. No matter how hard I try, I cannot get that doodle fro under control. He’s either cut too short, looking too much like a poodle (no thanks). Or he’s on the other end of the spectrum and his doodle perm is matted beyond brushing, turning him into a walking piece of velcro. Either way, the doodle do is hard to handle.

So, with Waffles being well beyond the velcro end of the spectrum, I [finally] made him a grooming appointment on Thursday. Upon dropping him off, the groomer assured me she’s seen doodles worse off than mine (bless her heart), which I’m sure she meant, until she realized mine was crawling with bugs.

Calls you don’t want to receive from the groomer: “I am still working on Waffles, but as I’m cutting through his hair, I’m noticing he’s covered in some sort of mite or flea. Like, everywhere. I put him in a medicated bath because I’ve never seen anything like this and I’m kind of freaked out.”

Bitch, you’re freaked out?!? I let that bug infested rat sleep in my bed. Like, next to my fucking face. Barf.

Immediately, I hung up and called his vet. Which did nothing to defuse the situation. The vet told me to bring him in the next morning because it could be lice. FUCKING. LICE. As if I didn’t have the itches before, now I’m ready to lock my dog outside, shave off my [very expensive fake] hair, and burn my goddamned house to the ground. Yay.

By Friday afternoon we had spent three hours and almost $200 at the vet. The doctor swears it’s [only] fleas (even though she saw no creepy crawlies anywhere on his body). And she sent us on our way with flea medication (for Waffles, not me) and some vague instructions for de-fleaing the house.

Fun fact. Did you know fleas only spend about 5% of their time on their host (aka dog)? The other 95% of their time is spent in their environment (aka my house). Awesome. So. Fucking. Awesome.

In order to de-flea a house it requires: vacuuming, special flea killing carpet powder, more vacuuming, flea killing upholstery spray, mopping, laundering every piece of fabric in the house, sanitizing, dog bathing, and numerous minor freak-outs.

Thankfully, I’ve yet to see a single creepy crawly on Waffles or within in my house. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t take every precaution possible.

Final cost of fleas:

• $300 (so much for that “might-be-losing-my-job budget”)
• 3 full days of cleaning/vacuuming/sanitizing/laundry
• 17 loads of laundry
• the feeling of comfort in my home/bed
• the love for my dog (sorry, Waffles)

So, yeah. There you have it. My weekend with [flea infested] Waffles. See below for the face of fleas.

New rule: the only thing I’ll take my waffles covered in is butter. Thanks.

with love and butter,

bree