It's not so much that I mind being home on a Saturday night... My Mom, the dogs, the cat and I are enjoying a quiet evening and beautiful sunset. The trouble is we're dealing with fleas. A super minor case, but a major pain in the neck when your Mom has Alzheimer's.
It seemed bad enough when I tried to escape into the kitchen to give them each a bath. My Mom would not stay in her chair, she kept asking where I went and trying to get up to come find me. I have an open floor plan so I could see her dangerously teetering out of the recliner chair with the footrest up, she couldn't see me because her chair faces the opposite direction. If only I would have known she'd be so needy today, I would have turned it around before I started Riley's bath. Instead, I had one hand trying to hold a small slippery dog all covered with suds, while I craned my head over the counter trying to prove I wasn't more than ten feet away. The flea soap had to stay on for a full five minutes to be effective, by minute three I had no choice but to abandon the bather and scoot into the living room to put My Mom back in place. Terrified Riley would leap down to the tile floor leading to an even greater veterinary emergency, I gave a stern "stay", "stay" as I cautiously left him and made my way around to the living room. Riley escaped to the counter top, but My Mom took the command quite well. She heard the order and backed right down into the chair!
Maybe that's the moment the transformation took place, honestly I can't be sure, but from there the whole ordeal took an insane twist. Trying to remain in her line of vision, I moved the post bath activities to the living room floor. From there I applied Frontline, brushed both dogs and even trimmed their toes. Guess who got jealous? This by far became the most ridiculous behavior ever displayed by My Poor failing Mom.
It started as I applied the Frontline prevention. Here's how the activity went from there:
(Late add: one part might seem a little tasteless, but it happened so I'm writing about it.)
"What would happen if I got one?" she asked referring to the medicine.
"I don't know," I said stunned that she'd even ask for something being applied to a dog. "You'd probably break out in a rash."
"I'd like to try it anyway."
"You're not a dog."
"And, you don't have fleas," determined to make sure she understood that's a good thing I added "you should be thankful for that!"
"I could probably get some," she said brushing her head, as in hopefully she'd get them.
Then I began brushing the Sheltie.
"That's so nice." She paused as I continued to work. "I'd like to get brushed."
"You don't have any fur," I said shocked yet again, looking up in time to see her brushing her own arms with her hands to see how it would feel.
"No, but I have these," she retaliated by hoisting her barely there breasts through her shirt.
"I don't think you should brush your boobs either," I answered, trying not to laugh and wondering what could possibly come next. I could physically see her processing the situation, so I thought I'd toss a little more ammo in the conversation to convince any good remaining brain cells that she shouldn't compete with the dogs for attention.
"Besides, it's a steel brush, it would probably hurt."
"If you want to be that way." Pure dejection, until... about a half hour later she saw a yellow bag of treats on the table. She lit up.
"Now who put those there?"
"I did. They're dog treats."
"Well I didn't get one..."
What's going to happen when they start a game of tug of war with the pull toy????