The prettiest puss (Day Nine)

Chloe the ten-year-old cat is not as she used to be. Barring her longing desire to venture outside, fleas still managed to grace her with their presence. This mild infestation left her habitually scratching and licking. Scratching and licking her chin, abdomen, and hind quarters bare. Only the freckled skin of a tortoise shell cat remains.

Figuring Chloe's life is half full, I (Jon - shhh...) recently invested an obscenely absurd amount of money into this feline. Why not make those twilight years happy years? Afterall, Chloe's been with me far longer than any of these other lifeforms.

Fleas. No heartworm. No tapeworm. No fungus. Nothing. Just fleas. I am now slathering an antiflea solution betwixt her shoulderblades once a month. Apparently the only place a poor puss can't reach to clean.

Me neither, I discover every time I shower.

Raise your glasses and toast with me, won't you?

To Chloe. Still the prettiest puss I've ever known.