A few days ago, while reposing on this very table, Frank revealed an ugly truth about himself.
Or rather about his person. To be brief, Frank has brought along some baggage in the form of several fleas. The vet sold us something I'm not crazy about using, because these are some very harsh chemicals, but we put, as instructed, two drops on his skin at the back of his neck. He looks a bit chastened here.
The two other cats have received a similar treatment.
Many years ago, several states away now, we lived through a flea infestation. Not pleasant. Not at all. And difficult to deal with, let me tell you. It's better to nip this particular parasite in the bud sooner rather than later . . .
Other than that, though, Frank has adjusted without the bat of an eye. Bear is still in the throes of heartbreak, but is getting better. She can now stand to be in the same room with Frank, sort of, for a minute or so. Throughout the day, Frank enjoys many feedings of Fancy Feast, with a little milk in a bowl. He plays with some toy mice and enjoys a handknit or two to bite one when feeling frisky.