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The Wag: Temporary flea crisis sends Mom into a tizzy

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Puppy Stout, Columnist

Puppy Stout brings his column, The Wag, to the Williamson Herald from The Tennessean where it has appeared for well over a decade. We are delighted to welcome Pup. He will regale you with his adventures in his own voice. His mom, Vicki Stout, helps him paw the keyboard at times, but it IS Puppy Stout doing the talking, aka barking.

Oh, dog, we have faced a huge quandary. Mom suspected we might have fleas in our house!

It has been an all-paws-on-deck sort of crisis. It all started when we found a flea on our cat, Thomas Jefferson Cat, aka. Mr. Jefferson.  

“Yikes,” shrieked Mom. “He has a flea. What if everyone has fleas? What will we do? I can’t bear to think about such a scenario.”

She’s prone to panic. And drama.

First off, she closely inspected my doggie sister, Mattie, and me. She brushed us. She looked at itchy spots. I drew the short straw and went to our doctor to see if they could spot fleas anywhere.

I came up with a clean bill of health.

Next up, Mom and I went to one of my favorite places, Tractor Supply Co. We go to the one in Grassland. Oh, dog, they have everything a dog could need, including a bathing station. It has shampoo, water to temperature, everything.

While I love to shop there, I put my paws down about a bath. I prefer one at home. But we did shop around for supplies, everything from shampoo to flea treatments for the house. They even gave me a dog treat when we left.

Whether you’re a city slicker or a subdivision dweller or a farm dog, Tractor Supply should be on your radar. The humans in there are so nice. Mom says they are as nice as Publix or Nordstrom peeps. I can’t speak to the latter two, but I can tell you firstpaw, they are great. Even if you’re not shopping for dog stuff, you are welcome to come with your people to browse and buy all sorts of things, from tools to fertilizer.

I digress.

Back to the flea crisis. Mom and I came home, she sequestered Mattie and me, asked Mr. Jefferson to go outside, and she sprayed the flea treatment on floors. We couldn’t go back into those rooms for quite some time.

Two days later, though we have not seen one flea. She called an exterminator to check out our situation. Mom is thorough.

He came, visited and, in his professional judgment, reckoned we don’t have fleas in our house. We’re all giddy with relief. No one hates fleas more than dogs and cats — except maybe Mom.

It’s an all’s-well-that-ends-well story here. At least for now, Mom has gone on to other issues.

Stay tuned.

Wags and woofs,


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