by Marianna Lamare

Created on: August 24, 2008   Last Updated: December 26, 2008

When I studied music as a child, a mnemonic phrase helped me learn to read notes on the ukulele.
Now, the phrase "My dog has fleas" has a newer, more visceral meaning for me: the invasion of unwanted body and houseguests.

According to Webster's New and Unabridged Dictionary, a flea is: "any of several small, wingless, jumping insects that are parasitic and bloodsucking."

Also, something I didn't know, a flea can be "a sharp, stinging rebuke, rebuff or hint: a flea in one's ear." I get that, I really do. Now I can add to my (still growing..) list of "unwanted creatures sucking blood out of my body"the name of "flea", right next to "tick" and "mosquito" and so on. I had pinworms once from a preschool student but that's not a bloodsucker but an inside parasite and I don't want to talk about that.

Anyway, back to fleas. Interestingly enough, too, in the dictionary, (before I close this massive book), I see it is related to the word "flee" and derived from "fleon", that is to flee. Something you really want to get away from or get away from you. Yes, indeed, I get that, too. I'm going to have to check into the fleabane plant that apparently is supposed to get rid of fleas. OK, the book is now closed. And so continues my story, as does the itching of my fleabites.

We rescued this lovely golden retriever last December and we love her. Our precious dog is a five-year-old female with a big heart and has brought great joy into our lives. Lizzie, her given name, has also many health problems that I won't go into here, but one problematic issue is severe allergy to fleabites. I've spent the past half year trying various preventative (and unfortunately rather toxic) anti-flea medications, give her daily garlic and special vitamins that are supposed to be unpalatable to fleas, and even given serious consideration to dancing naked under a full moon cursing the small demons. So far, well, we've not had great success. Living in the Bay area of California is like living in a flea heaven, I've been told. There's no winter frost or snow to kill the critters off and they really like it here, as do a million plus human beings with an ample supply of pets to annoy, let alone all the other wild animals in the area. In other words, the fleas far out number us with any semblance of brains.

After finding something on my dog that looked like it must be a flea or, my other dread, a louse (singular for lice), I did some research trying to identify what it was.
Using my magnifying lens, I had discovered

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