Flea Infestation as a Metaphor for Life 

The dog appears to have stopped scratching; I wish I could say the same for me. Another vacuum to suck up some carcasses, a flea bomb strategically placed, a bathed dog in flea wash and we should be right. 🙏🏻

As I sit here scratching though, I contemplate the significance of this flea infestation (not bad by any stretch of the imagination but very annoying nonetheless). 

And I realise that life is full of random infestations of worry and trouble. Times when we feel stretched to our limits of patience. Troubles come to annoy us, eat at our skin, leave us marked, and we often don’t see them coming. 

They start out small, almost hard to catch, and so we wait for them to go away and die. If they don’t immediately regress, we patch them up and keep moving along. Until one day, shortly after, we notice that they have started  creeping into every crevice of peace and calm, and are slowly taking over control. 

It is now that we realise it is time. Time to prepare methodically for their annihilation; reclaiming control. 

So we gather our tools, access appropriate resources, assess the extent of the problem, and act. Swiftly and mercilessly. 

One step at a time. One process after another. Until every trouble is vanquished, and all that is left is to suck up the memories and keep moving forward. 

Yep, and now I think I might be allergic so I’m off to rub cream into my teaming skin. 

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