Professor Killjoy

There’s no fleas in Las Vegas. It’s too hot in the summer and cold in the winter for fleas to survive. LIES!!! I plucked a flea off Miso cat who is Las Vegas born and bred. After combing his fur he only had two on him but still... LIES!!!

My distrusting nature, I was prepared.

After treating Miso with flea medication an hour or so later I plucked a few dead ones from his paw he no doubt scratched off his neck. So to you nay sayers, if fleas didn’t exist in Las Vegas, why would stores sell flea medication I wonder? Next comes the joy of giving Miso worm medication I’m sure. I’m always looking at his butt now. Dreading. 

Just like Sherlock Holmes, I too have a nemesis professor. His name isn’t as cool as Moriarty, but it does take my evil genius to save others from his. These blogs aren’t meant to change the colors of your world, Professor Killjoy, but I’m more than happy to dispel all these so-called facts of yours like fleas not existing in Las Vegas, to help others prep their pets for upcoming summer months. 

Aaaaaaand

There’s a body in my front yard bushes. Again. On occasion people leaving the festivities of Fremont Street Experience, drink a little too much, get lost, and pass out in the bushes in my front yard. Be that as it may, I don’t think this is that. As long as he’s not hurting anyone, dying in my front yard bushes is just as good a’place as any. We’re both in Vegas to do the same thing it seems. Be my guest. Go first. 

The other day I witnessed a woman taking her sleepy toddler for a stroll. The woman suddenly stopped pushing the stroller in front of a homeless man. She then reached down and gently slapped the toddler across the face a few times waking the toddler just to make the kid look at the homeless man’s cat lounging freely on top of filthy stacked garbage bags. “Look. Kitty.” The woman said.

(Sigh) Greetings from Las Vega... fuckinghell what’s wrong with you people?

Before I continue with today’s blog o’ bleh, I should probably first explain...

Las Vegas is a giant barren wasteland desert. I’ve said this before because it’s true. Parts of Las Vegas used to be a pig farm. Other parts of Las Vegas was used as a garbage landfill. Still is by the homeless and tourists just like Los Angeles. Streets, houses, apartment building, casinos, and other businesses pop up here and there, AND THEN roads are are constructed to get you to and fro. When people complain about how poorly roads are designed here, gosh that’s why, it’s a desert for goodness sakes, nothing was meant to live here but snakes, scorpions, and cactus. 

Karma finally got me for the tourists I accidentally gave bad directions to. And it went a little something like this...

After running errands to the bank, Albertsons, DVD library, Target, and Starbucks, for my season’s first mocha Frappacino, also the only Starbucks with no electrical outlets, I had to run to an AT&T store. Only the AT&T store Google directed me to was actually a tiny AT&T stand inside an Asian fish market. As could be expected this particular AT&T stand did not have the item I needed. So the nice kid working the stand directed me to the nearest actual AT&T store. But I soon learned when the kid said go left at Flamingo, he actually meant go right. No harm done. It happens. I simply turned around and continued in the right direction. 

Across town...

When I got to the AT&T store, I learned I had the wrong company entirely and needed to get the item I was seeking from a different company located about an hour away from where I live. Technically about 30 minutes from where I live but because Las Vegas is a giant barren wasteland desert, there are no streets that will take you directly there. It’s one road that winds around the desert, circles back, figure eights, loopty loo’s, and then dumps you off a half mile from the front door sans concrete road, just rocks and gravel. In other words it requires three hours of your day and I just didn’t have that kind of time. So instead I went to the 99 Cent store, and Walmart. Those nine errands took six hours. Six. Hours.

Today I was going to make a pilgrimage to that far away company out in the middle of nowhere but it’s 97 degrees out and I heard Miso cat crying from a little piece of shade across the street. I ran across the street to him and he jumped into my arms. I carried Miso to my apartment so his little paws wouldn’t touch the hot pavement. His toe beans are getting calluses. He ate his usual big can of soft food, and a scoop of hard food, he let me give him a sponge bath, and now Miso kitty is fast asleep on his favorite blanket I washed this morning. I wash Miso every day I see him. I’ve washed more spiders out of my hair than his. Spiders are everywhere right now. I try not killing the big ones. They eat all the other insects like flies, but when a big brown spider tumbled down my face the other night, flies be saved, I flushed that damn spider down the toilet. 

I look for Miso every morning on the hour from 6am until I have to leave, and every night on the hour when I’m home. Maybe a day might go by when I don’t see him but he has a bed, cold water, a drawer full of food, toys, brushes, baths, hugs, kisses, and a lot of love any time he wants it. I’m told he lives across the street but if that’s true his humans clearly don’t care for him the way they should. He’s not even fixed. One day soon kitty, we’ll move into a pet friendly building. I’ll take you off the streets for good. ROXANNE!!!