Ticked Off, or Not for the Faint of Heart

Hundreds of ticks on the tile floor. The bloody-looking substance is, ummm, *blood*.

A fellow stopped by the vet’s office today so that his new hunting dog could get a rabies vaccination so that he could hunt her the next morning.  He had just gotten her that very morning, and apparently didn’t look closely at his purchase.  Also, the vet inoculated her without noticing that she was covered in ticks. 

I was doing paperwork at the desk, while the hunter and the vet chatted about hunting, and one of them commented on the small black specks of dirt on the floor.  The small, black, MOVING specks of dirt.  That popped when you stepped on them like peanut hulls on the floor. 

The vet grabbed a bottle of flea and tick spray, sprayed the floor, and the bloodfest began.  Ticks began to pop and die on the tile floor. 

The hunter made his apologies for bringing the dog into the building, and he began to ruminate about where the dog had been and what she had infested with her tickiness.  “She bin in my truck box, but she ain’t bin with my otha dawgs.  I keepum reel clean on concrete flores.  I’m shore sorry I brung her in.  You ownt me ta sweepum up for ye?” 

We said, no, no, that’s fine, we’ll sweepum up, which was code for “get the dog out of the building”.  I looked at the dog, uncertain as to how two grown men missed the tickfestation, and I saw clusters of seed ticks, like tiny clumps of grapes all over her body, in particular her face and ears. 

I started to scratch MY head, Pavlovian-like, in response to seeing all the ticks.

Thank goodness I had already eaten lunch.

 

Tags: dogs, Insanity rules, Veterinarian