Sometimes I feel like a flea on a dog’s back. The great-great-great grand daughter of a family who decided to no longer jump from dog to dog, but instead thought it a good idea to settle down on one animal forever.

My ancestor-fleas thought themselves so smart: finding ways to prevent their eggs from falling down onto the carpet, and discovering ways to protect themselves from flea collars and other flea-rid products. Now the members of our family live for months instead of weeks.

My flea-ancestors were  so “smart” that they create ways to harvest the dog’s blood – with some fleas doing the blood sucking for the “more important” fleas, who sit back and enjoy the ride.

Food was so plentiful we started to multiply. Now our family is in the billions.

But we are starting to realise something… Our dog is not well. His blood is starting to taste different. It’s starting to run out. The host of our last few thousand generations has become anaemic and debilitated. Our dog is dying. It will only be able to provide for us for a couple more generations of fleas, maybe less.

We need to find a new host. The only problem is that after so many generations on this one, living such an easy life, we have evolved to live on that dog and no other. Our eggs can no longer develop in carpet. We are stuck on our dying dog. We are doomed.

Riddle me this: How many humans on earth will it take to become the fleas that killed their dog?

Photo Credits:

Photographer: Brian Walker –