Tick Tally

When I ran my hand across Ransom’s coat and felt lots of little scabs, I knew tick season had arrived. Living out in pasture, he is a magnet. I think ticks are disgusting, but have long since overcome my distaste at their removal. After pulling a few out by hand, I remembered the tweezers in my car. They were an invaluable tool as I sifted for the tiny buggers in his long coat.

His flank and throat were the sweet spots, but they were difficult places to search. Ransom stood tolerantly, one leg cocked and eyes half closed, allowing me to poke and probe in ticklish areas. Our grooming routine time nearly doubled, but each find was a triumph, and by the end of the week, I had killed sixty-one of the nasty parasites! Now that’s a genocide I can justify.