When Polly was very young and smaller than Scruffy (ie the first 3 weeks she lived here) she used to sleep in a wicker basket near the back door, which was lined with an old jumper and one of my old pairs of pants. The basket was chewed to death long ago but the bedding had migrated into the kennel to make it smell like home. In fact, when Polly is feeling particularly upset (Somebody barked! Somebody chased birds! Somebody dug a HOLE! Somebody was a BADDOG! THUNDER!) and put-upon, she will drag her bedding to the place where her puppy basket used to be, pile the rags into a ring and curl up on it. It's the doggy equivalent of Linus' Blue Blanket.
And now the cloth had fleas and so did the carpet squares in the bottom of each kennel. I bought a new can of Die You Filthy Insect Bastards For Dogs, liberally powdered Polly's bed then plastered the interior of the kennel. I did the same to Scruffy's smaller kennel, reaching in as far as I could and going all Jackson Pollock with the powder tin. I sat back to admire my handywork and watched the dusty air flow from the kennels.
Then a patch of white carpet moved. Scruffy stood, walked from the kennel and gave me a look of hurt and outrage through the lumps of powder stuck to his face. He then tottered over to the lawn leaving behind a trail of while lumps on the way, and shook himself, making a mark on the grass very much like a 1/2kg flour bomb had been dropped there from a great height.
I stared at the Scruffy-shaped clear patch on the floor of the kennel and wondered if I should have checked in there before going birko with the powder. Then I obliterated the sillhouette with even more powder.
Die you filthy insect bastards.