and yet, Mum is comfortably in denial. I’m sat here watching her on the windowsill chewing various parts of her body where the fleas are (which she has been doing for the last few weeks), then she’ll twitch, shake herself then jump a bit. That’s not including when she runs around the house in frustration. But as mum tells me, that’s perfectly natural and the cat is fine. That’s okay, mum, we’ll just keep ignoring the new bites I acquire every evening, and the fact that yesterday I had my second flea land on me. “That’s not a flea, Hannah, fleas ju…” “what did it do then mum? Jump?” “It’s not the cat’s.”
So, the alternative is, I’ve got fleas…but I think I’m voting the cat for now.