By the next evening, the frantic thumping of hind legs against the floor had stopped. Barnaby was sprawled across Leo’s lap, finally still, his purr vibrating like a contented cello. Leo looked at his laptop, still open to the shipping confirmation. Sometimes, the internet actually delivered exactly what it promised: a quiet house and a happy cat.

"Seems legit," Leo muttered, ignoring the irony. He clicked.

The prompt "buy selamectin online" blinked on Leo’s screen, a digital SOS for his flea-ridden cat, Barnaby. Barnaby was currently a blur of orange fur and frantic scratching, a tiny engine of misery on the living room rug.

“The Selamectin 6% solution is your sword, Leo,” Dr. Paw replied instantly. “One drop on the shoulder blades, and the invaders shall perish. Would you like the 3-pack or the 'Peace of Mind' 6-pack?”

As he entered his shipping details, a chat box popped up in the corner. “Hello! I am Dr. Paw. Are you looking to reclaim your carpet from the flea overlords?”

Leo had spent the afternoon scouring the web for a solution. His local vet was booked solid for two weeks, and the drugstore options felt like bringing a water pistol to a wildfire. He needed something stronger. He needed selamectin.

Leo went for the 6-pack. He hit "Confirm Order" and felt a wave of relief, followed immediately by the paranoid suspicion that he’d just bought expensive sugar water from a bot in a basement.