CJ and Sizwe were fleas. They were also cousins and best friends. Sizwe lived on a very barky, bouncy pouncy dog called Butch. Butch was not allowed in the house because he was very innocently destructive.

Butch's tail wagged like a karate chop. His enormous paws dug deep ditches in the garden and scratched grooves in the kitchen door. Butch's bark resounded loudly through the neighbourhood when he ran from one corner of the yard to the other with flapping ears, chasing away imaginary intruders. Oh, and his teeth! Simply gigantic!

Lady Grey, known formally as Lady Jessica Cheré Grey and informally as Her Majesty, could not tolerate that brutish beast Butch, so she preferred to remain indoors. Snug on her owner's bed or in the laundry basket or in a shoe box, she was sheltered from his wild licking and soggy slobbering and generally crazy and obnoxious behaviour.

Lady Grey did as little as possible. She slept, stretched, groomed her soft, grey, silky coat (on which she was immensely proud), and lazily lapped milk from her shiny dish while her silver bell gently tinkled. She was a picky eater and certainly found no joy in hunting or any similarly awful and exhausting activities that other cats enjoy.

Polar opposites as they were, Butch and Lady Grey had something in common: fleas. Lady Grey would never admit to it, and was perhaps even in denial. In her defense, she had only one: Sizwe. Butch's patchy hide housed several, by contrast, including CJ and his extended family and some other little beasts and buggies.

One day, CJ and Sizwe met for a glass of - well, you know what fleas drink.
"You look tired, bra," said Sizwe to CJ.
"Ja, man, I didn't sleep well. Butch barked and howled all night again," complained CJ.
"Eish, I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't even hear a thing. I was snuggled up so soundly behind Her Majesty's ear."

"Sometimes I'm jealous of you, Sizwe," said CJ. "Your life must be great. No barking, not scratching, no rolling in grass, no fighting for a spot of fur, no smelly dog breath..."
"It's true," said Sizwe, "but it can get lonely sometimes, and a bit boring."
"I can do with a bit of boring," said CJ.
"I can do with a bit of barking," said Sizwe.

"Then it's a deal," they declared and gave each other a fist bump.
"I'll come and check out Hotel Grey," said CJ, smiling.
"And I'll book my holiday with Butch adventures," said Sizwe, rubbing his front feet together.
The two hopped off to their new hosts without delay.

CJ found his way to Lady Grey, who was in the laundry basket at the time, sleeping of course. He found a nice spot in her lovely silky fur and fell asleep. He woke up when Lady Grey decided it was time for a snack. After crunching quietly on a few pellets, she went back to the same spot and resumed her nap.

CJ took a walk around her fur. It was all the same dense grey. He sat down. Looked around. Stretched a bit. Looked around some more. Studied his feet. Lay down. Stared at the bathroom tiles. He could make out quite a number of animals in the patterns.

When it got dark, CJ began to feel scared. Lady Grey hadn't moved. "Maybe she died," he thought. It was very quiet. Eerily quiet. Creepily quiet. He tried not to think about it and began to whistle very loudly, but he could only drown out the silence so long before he began to feel stupid for whistling in the middle of the night.

He tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He couldn't bear the silence and the heat of the fur and the motionlessness of that boring (possibly dead) cat. He missed his family. He couldn't hear anyone fighting or snoring or chatting. He stuck his feet out of the fur to avoid over-heating.

Meanwhile, after an exciting day filled with barking and running around, Sizwe lay down to read his book. He had taken a tick's spot and had to move. His new spot was bare and cold. Two fleas were having a fight. A flea larva cried. A large, muddy toenail just missed his head as it scratched the bare spot. The wind howled. Butch howled.

The next day, CJ and Sizwe met each other at the kitchen door.
"Take back your boring cat," said CJ. "She's where you left her yesterday. Fancy cats are not for me."
"Well, flea infestations are not my cup of tea," said Sizwe. "Take back your bouncy brute, bra. He's chasing his tail by the fence."

The two fleas went back to their hosts and took a while to complain again.