Ollie is fat and Lou is tall and gangly.
They share the same space. They sleep on "their" couch. They spend every waking moment with each other.
Louie is sleeping right now. Oliver is biting at his feet, his legs. Scratching at his ears, his shoulders, his flanks, his underbelly, his jaw.
They share the same space. They live with each other.
In a vacuum, if I viewed Oliver's histrionics, I would assume that the boyo had fleas. In a vacuum, I see Lou unabashedly lounging on the couch. What am I to believe?
I have never seen a flea. I have never seen a "hopper."
Does Ollie do it for attention? No. He itches. Badly. It actually hurts me to see him carrying on so. I am 99.8% certain that Oliver is not flea-infested. [As I type this, Lou lounges on the couch.] I think Ol may have skin dermatitis, or something like that. Skin allergies. He itches. I looked up on-line a homeopathic remedy to a dog driving himself and his human compatriots NUTZ by incessant scratching. There was an elixir to which peeps had sworn: In a spray bottle, mix one-third baby oil, one-third water and one-third Listerine and then douse the canine with the spray. Rub it in. Vigorously. For a thicker-haired doggy like a Beagle, make sure you double-douse and double-rub. With Love.
Because it sucks to see a family member suffering. And Ollie is--most assuredly.
Tonight, if the supplies arrive, I will spray the cute motherfucker and try to alleviate his itchiness. Within the next twenty-four hours, I hope that his malaise will be lifted. It is his burden to bear; Louie is as snug as a bug in a rug. If there were fleas, would they both not be affected? Yes, methinks.
Ollie: Better daze, man.
Lou: Keep yon sleep, brudder.
...To Be Continued....