parasitic icing on the cupcake


3 members of our menagerie; Fat White Dog, Other Brother Coon Cat, and the camera monster.

I was up at 4 in the morning to ascertain why Fat White Dog insisted hitting the top of my head with her paw on the down-stroke.


Somewhere in the depths of all that white fur she’d scrunched up against mom, a flea had entered during the night.  By the time I found the tiny turd of blood-sucking ugliness, it was half-dazed from the flea prevention I’d slathered all over her dog body.

I have no logical reason why the quest to kill a flea made me think of cupcakes.  Luckily, I made some with the overripe bananas on Sunday.  I love the cupcakes, but I’m not crazy about the parasitic honey cinnamon icing that sucks the flavor right out of it, and I will never do that again.  I promise.

Back to Fat White Dog.  She’s on her favorite spot:  My pillow.  

my pillow,jpg

One flea.  ONE.  She scratches at that but has no idea a baseball sized tumor was removed from her back on Friday with a 5 inch incision, and an inch long incision carved a tumor out of her tail.   Did I mention a skin tag was lopped off, too?

D@#N!  Now I’m eating a cupcake with one hand and scratching at imaginary pixel-sized predators with the other.