I could gross you out by describing what I've learned so far about ringworm, but I think I'll save that scary story for Halloween. I'll just say that I'm slightly less freaked out than I was but only because I'm apparently a very strong person who adapts well to the horrors of this world.
We don't yet have a positive result for the culture they did from Wendy's cute little ear — those can take 3 weeks — but while we wait, we have to take precautions in case she does have The Fungus. So the kittens are getting antifungal shampoos three times a week and Wendy also gets a topical ointment on the little spots on her ears and toe.
And I've been busy with cleaning, Web research, and calling local vets and groomers to see what my options are. I'm getting a lot of conflicting advice; everyone handles it differently. One person will tell me not to panic, and the next person will tell me to panic more. I'm still trying to set up shampoo appointments for our Persians, who are too old and fragile for the traumas of home bathing.
Vets and groomers in this area don't see a lot of ringworm, and so far I've found only one groomer who might do the twice-weekly lime sulfur dips on all four cats that our vet is advising if Wendy is positive for the fungus. This dip smells of rotten eggs so everyone expects you to do it yourself. In your garage. As if. We certainly can't do it here at home.
To reduce the possible microscopic spore population, I've been wiping down walls, mopping, dusting, cleaning under bookcases and radiators, and vacuuming floors and upholstery like mad. I do laundry day and night. Our curtains are down, as is the shower curtain and the bedskirt that covers all the storage tubs stowed under there. Our armchairs are covered with a motley collection of old sheets that are easy to wash. Our rugs will all go away for cleaning on Friday, and I don't expect to be seeing them again for many weeks. The place looks like a very clean wreck, in short.
It's been an interesting week. Well, I said I wanted a "project." And I was stupid enough to name the kitten Wendelina Pantherina, knowing that "pantherina" is the name of a poisonous mushroom. Or fungus. As Tevye says in Fiddler on the Roof: "When you spit in the air, it lands on your face."
Today I cheered myself up with a fake grilled cheese sandwich. You make one by toasting the bread, adding the cheese, and microwaving your creation for about 20 seconds. You get a double-toasty sandwich and no one would be the wiser if you weren't laughing under your breath. It's delicious and fast. I had mine with some roasted tomato-basil soup I froze from last summer. The soup had taken hours to make but the sandwich took about 2 minutes. I preferred the sandwich.
I remember emailing Some Assembly Required about this when I discovered it a few years ago. We correspond regularly on a miscellany of shallow topics, and I remember him saying how odd it seemed that I would like such a sandwich because I'm fussy about cooking. But it's not like I took it out of a mylar package like a Pop-Tart. It's not made with high fructose corn syrup or artificial coloring. It's still an honest-to-god toasted cheese sandwich. It's just been created by someone too lazy and messed-up to get out the frying pan.
A person who has to launder a dozen cat toys and scrub the underside of her box-spring simply does not have time to wait for butter to melt on the stove.