There once was a cat named Flea. He went about his merry way, day after day into his human’s garden. There he delighted in the smell among the flowers and vegetables. He listened to the birds merrily chirp as they flitted about. The trees always invited him to climb and watch his whole kingdom from above.
One day, sitting on a broad strong limb, Flea lay down to take a long nap. But he felt annoyed. Itchy. On his ear. On his stomach. On his leg. So he started scratching his ear. Then he nibbled on his stomach. He chewed on his leg. There. Settle in now for a nap. No! Not again. He furiously started his scratching routine again. Then out popped a tiny little bug from his ear.
“Are you, tiny varmint, the cause of my itching?” asked Flea the Cat. “Me? I’m just a tiny thing. What harm could I possibly do?” replied the little bug.
“Well, you popped off of my fur when I was scratching. Now I do not feel as itchy. So it must be you,” cried Flea, and he swatted away the little varmint. “There!” Now I can nap in peace.”
Moments later, Flea started to feel itchy again. He drowsily started scratching his ear. Then he nibbled on his belly, and then chewed on his leg. As he started repeating the cycle, out popped another tiny little bug.
“So you must be the buddy of the other tiny varmint causing my itching,” Flea accused the bug. “Me? I’m just a tiny thing! What harm could I possibly do?” the little bug replied.
“You are the second little varmint that popped off my fur when I was scratching and now I no longer itch.” So Flea swatted away the second little varmint.
Not long after dozing off, Flea felt itchy once again. He started furiously scratching his ear, ferociously nibbling at his stomach, and frantically chewing on his leg. He started to repeat this ritual when out from his leg popped a third tiny little bug.
“Aha! You must be the cause of my itching! You are the third tiny varmint I have caught!” snarled Flea the Cat. “Me? I’m just a tiny thing. What harm could I possibly do?” cried the third little bug.
Flea reflected on the bug’s statement. “That is the third time I’ve heard that today. All from tiny little varmints. And all three of you have lied to me. You all are the cause of my itching, yet deny you’ve caused me any harm. Away with you too!” Flea the Cat exclaimed, as he swatted away the third varmint.
Flea the Cat returned to his attempt to nap on the long broad tree limb. A neighbor cat named Doggie snuck into the yard and saw Flea up in the tree scratching.
“Hey, what are you doing up there?” shouted Doggie, the neighbor cat.
Flea opened one eye and replied, “I’m trying to nap. But I found three nasty little tiny varmints on my fur making me itchy and I swatted each of them away. But I’m itching again.
Doggie laughed. “What’s so funny?” hissed Flea the Cat, as his eyes widened, now fully awake.
“Well,” replied Doggie, “those little tiny varmints that make you itchy are your namesake--Flea!” Doggie the neighbor cat laughed even more.
“I’m named after a little tiny itchy-causing varmint?” howled Flea the Cat.
Doggie, still laughing, replied, “Yes you are! You need your human to help you get rid of those fleas, and change your name.”
Flea contemplated the plight he was in. He needed a plan. In the meantime, Doggie the neighbor cat was startled by a canine growling at him, so he ran off, with the canine barking in pursuit.
Later, back in the home for the evening, Flea curled up on his human’s lap. She was delighted with his company. But then she saw Flea scratching his ear. He nipped his belly. He chewed on his leg. He started the routine over again. The human felt itchy as well, and started scratching her arm.
“Oh my!” exclaimed the human. “Flea has fleas! He must be cursed by his namesake! Oh Flea forgive me. I must help you get rid of these fleas! And Flea itself.”
Flea the Cat gave his human an angry glare and pawed at her hands with his sharp claws. He then leapt from her lap, and sat there with his back to her, as if rejecting his human.
“Oh Flea! Please!” the itchy human cried. “You misunderstand. I want to get rid of the fleas in your fur, and get rid of your name, not get rid of you.” She stood up slowly, reaching out her arms.
Flea meowed softly, then brushed by his human’s ankles. The human was happy, and declared, “Yes. Yes you now understand. From here on I will call you by a different name. I will call you….CatNip.”
And from that day on, CatNip lives a blissful life, with his human. He is prowling in the garden, smelling wonderful flowers and plants, listening to the delightful chirping birds, climbing sturdy trees, while watching over his kingdom, itch-free. The End
Moral of the story:
Be careful what you name someone.
It can come back to bite you. 😸
Theresa M 😊
ps - What? Is there another point that can be made?
Why yes there is:
A house is not a home without a happy cat. 😺
