Lizzie really does have fleas.
We've been noticing a
And when I told Hubster to quit it, he told me it was okay because Lizzie was doing it, too.
So tonight Lizzie is going to the vet. It's her favorite place on earth next to the groomer. She's getting the whole nine yards - shots, worming, flea treatment, everything she never wanted. I have a definite feeling that I will be the one in the doghouse tonight instead of her.
Speaking of doghouses, we're getting her a different kennel with new bedding in it as well. We certainly don't want to risk re-infection. Besides that, we can consider it a late birthday present for her.
The Boy is coming with me, but only because I told him that if he didn't I wouldn't take him to get his hair cut.
Teenagers. You can't spank 'em anymore, and they're too tough to chew.
In other news, I am no longer talking about knitting or teeth. Which leaves the gulch pretty much dry, pardners.
QUICK!! SOMETHING MUNDANE!!! HAPPEN HERE!!!
Until then? I'm off to become the object of ridicule for taking such poor care of my pet at the vet's office.
If you need me, I'll be the one standing outside the exam room as they shoot my puppy girl full of needles.