Blood Sucker Season

Nope, not more politics and calls for Karl Rove's treasonous head. Nah, that's handling itself just fine right now and the more Shrub digs his heels in the more he looks like he's trying to protect a traitor to the American people.

No, this morning's post is about a smaller blood sucker, ticks. In the last week, I've pulled four of them off Nande from our morning walks in the slough. This morning I pulled one off her while we were still down in the slough as it had just hitched a ride.

The side effect of pulling ticks off of her is that I develop a strange paranoia that there are ticks on me, hidden in my hair or in the middle of my back where I can't reach them. I know there aren't any there intellectually but tell that to my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck that stand up or the sensation of little feet across the nape of my neck.

Its nasty because ticks are nasty little creatures, ugly and built for one thing, to extract blood from a host so they can make little ticks and start the process again.

All it means is that I'll be hitting Nande up with the new dose of Revolution mid-month rather than at the end of the month because pulling ticks off my hound is a serious drag and gives me a lasting case of the heeby-jeebies.
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