cirque de so-flea

Since the leaves have fallen, our dogs like to go out and crunch though them and leave deposits in the drifts, like little land-poo-mines.
The problem is that fleas live in the leaves, and when they trot back in the house they bring the fleas with them.
Kevin finds this infestation a challenge-- sort of a seek and destroy mission, you could say.
Inevitably, the flea portmanteaus start.
First we call the dog Mo-flea-to.
Then when Kevin thinks he has a flea in his grip only to watch it leap away, he is de-flea-ted.
Etc.
I'm a little ashamed to reveal this habit of ours, to be honest.

Tonight I cracked myself up with this:
Mojito was lying on what's left of my lap when I have a laptop on it, when I spotted a flea making its way down his back. I missed at first pinch, but the flea didn't jump away; it was rather laggard about its escape.
I got it on the second pinch and then told Kevin how slow the flea was. He said it must have been sleepy. And I said:
"You mean flea-py."

Ok, it's funnier if you say it out loud.