Fleas

When Annie joined us last month, she had obviously been through some pretty rough times. One could see the filthy alleys and clawed battles with desperate tomcats in her natty fur and scarred hinder regions. If Gargy hadn't rescued her, her life would have undoubtedly been cut short. A pathetically lonely existence, with her being willingly pounced on by every male in sight.

(Yes, Annie is THAT kind of a female. Pretty much like every thirty-something chick I know).

My gargoyle nursed her back to health and she is now a normal, happy, self-centered and territorial feline. That she has the gall to refuse certain brands of premium tinned food after spending the first years of her life scarfing down any rotting flesh she could find is profoundly grating, yet Gargy caters to her whims and, of course, as with ANY girl, she grabs the upper hand conferred by an attentive and affectionate dude and leverages it to no end.

Alas, also as with other girls, once she knows she owns the heart of one guy, she loses interest and seeks to seduce those who are utterly disinterested. This is causing friction between me and my little green anthropomorphic blob, because Annie is increasingly less interested in receiving Gargy's care and is constantly purring around ME. Given that the only attention I wish to give her is impalement on a particularly rusty and dull stump of a spike, her efforts are obviously in vain. Yet she persists and Gargy isn't at all happy.

Anyhoo, the new development is that, in addition to her crude presence, Annie brought fleas with her into my home. Now, gargoyles don't have much hair, but that which they do have seems to be a rather ideal breeding ground for hemovore leaping insects (slime makes fleas happy I assume). The bugs had made their way into every corner of my apartment and Gargy was gradually going quite insane from the constant scratching (and dagger-sharp claws scraping scaly skin makes for a REALLY irritating noise resembling the screechy instruments played in Italian soccer stadia when a player does a particularly convincing dive-and-ankle-grab with just the right amount of tears shed).

I had gone through washing or throwing out every inch of fabric in my home and the Cleaning Lady has supplied every ounce of her insect-genocide knowledge. Despite the efforts, the bugs have proven themselves difficult to displace and we were becoming desperate.

After a quick Internet search, Gargy found a Romanian site which explained that gargoyle blood is a flea narcotic and that one should capture and slaughter any medieval beast that has been infected AFTER bringing it into one's dwelling. Once the source of their bliss has been depleted, the fleas would starve themselves to death in a massive withdrawal-induced suicide.

...Gargy wasn't happy at the news.