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When you have pets, you can have a whole heap of trouble. We had a battle with fleas that lasted for three months. No one tells you that when you’re fighting a flea infestation, you will DO MORE WASH THAN YOU’VE EVER DONE IN YOUR LIFE.

It started when our cat ‘visited’ with stray cats in the wooded area behind our yard. She must have pranced right into our house loaded with the buggers. Within days, our dog had them. Then we had them. They were on the carpets, the couches and the blankets. I couldn’t see them, but they jumped up and bit me on the ankles while I watched TV.

My poor daughter, who was now in college, came home for a visit and brought fleas back to the dorm! That did not make her popular with her roommates.

There was an embarrassment factor. I knew fleas were prevalent in warm months and could infest even the cleanest of homes. Still, I walked down the pet store aisles hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew! As I rang up my purchase, I wanted to say to the cashier “these are for a friend.” The pet supply industry must make a killing on these calamities, because we spent a small fortune on drops, shampoos, sprays, repellants and foggers.

We did so much research on fleas, I felt like an entomologist. We learned the three stages of a flea’s life, yuck. We learned preventive measures, educated ourselves about yard treatments and vowed never to let it happen again. We’ll see...the weather’s getting warmer.

Chapter Three:  Weekend Bliss

Before we moved into our new house, I imagined the relaxed and romantic Saturday mornings we’d have together − my sweetheart and I snuggling in bed while we chatted about our plans for the day, sunlight pouring through an open window, accompanied by a warm breeze. We’d hear the coffee gently percolating and smell the rich aroma. We’d get up at 10 o’clock and make a big breakfast.

The only part of that daydream that actually became reality is the big breakfast. Our weekend mornings go something like this:

7:30 am: Can’t hold it any longer, must use the bathroom! I know what this means. Our dog hears me and thinks that it is time to wake up. He whines until one of us allows him into the bedroom. I open the door. He pushes through, knocks me aside and licks my snoozing sweetheart. There is a lot of snuggling, between Robert and the dog. By the time Robert rolls over to my side to kiss me good morning, his face is soaking wet. I decline. 

Robert takes the dog outside … and never comes back to the bedroom.

8 am: The house phone is ringing, text messages are jingling and a fire whistle from the station two blocks away is howling. I groggily enter the kitchen in battered furry slippers. The cat is meowing with hunger. Robert is already sitting at the home computer scrutinizing e-Bay. We exchange ‘Morning, honeys’ with a quick smooch.

8:30 am: We make a calorie-laden breakfast that would make King Henry VIII blush. The bacon smell permeates everything, including my hair. The pets inch closer and closer to the table in fierce competition for table scraps. We shout at both of them. Afterwards, we load the dishwasher. The dog licks dirty plates when he thinks we’re not looking.

9:30 am: I ambitiously decide to exercise. I put on sweats and stretch vigorously. The dog reclines nearby in his luxury bed, surveying his domain (the family room is just a big doghouse). The cat waits in the kitchen for us to make another meal.

10:00 am: I sit on the floor in a lotus pose, and I’m assaulted by the foulest stench, which I swear has a color - green. I am convinced our dog does this on purpose when I am trying to achieve Zen. I run to the door which leads to the garage, yank it open and shout, “I’m trying to do yoga and the dog has GAS!”

“C’mere, Shnoop!” Rob calls out. The dog trots off, giving me a dose of the walking toots as he leaves.

11:00 am: I’m exhausted from getting up so early. The house is quiet, so I decide to get back under the covers and enjoy a new novel. Rob comes in a minute later, “Oh yeah, my mother’s coming over.”

 “NOW?! I haven’t showered.”

“She doesn’t care.” He puts on his jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“Helping Mark put a motor in his truck.”

“What about your mother?”

“Oh, I told her.” He kisses my cheek and runs off, “Make her some breakfast or something. You girls have fun!”