The love of a cat can be difficult to understand exactly. Mine, for example, likes to bring me dead mice, birds, squirrels, and even bats from time to time. Others just like to snuggle and purr (he does that, too, of course). A few weeks ago, as an act of ultimate kitteh luffs, he brought me fleas. I love Marcel, really I do. But I tried really hard to hate him for this. (The problem is he's too damned cute & sweet to hate....) All the same, whether I love or hate the damnable fuzzhead, he got my bed infested with fleas. And possibly my bedroom. And maybe even the entire basement Parker & I live in. Sigh. So it's been a bit weird since I figured out the flea problem. Changing sheets every night, vacuuming tons, setting up a dehumidifier to control the fleas some. I honestly haven't personally found any more on my bed, but who knows.... I'm paranoid with formication --everywhere I go, I'm convinced there's fleas on me. Anytime some hair on my forea...