Tick-Killer

When I became the owner of a Demon Chihuahua, I never imagined that I would also become her self-appointed grooming chimp. Being the vicious little Napoleon-complex dog she is, Maddie often relishes at barking and chasing whatever life throws at her (mostly flies and the 6:00 a.m. newspaper). She adores spending time in the sunshine and ruffling her pig-like snout through a sea of upright blades of green grass. This activity always results in her being less-than-tidy.

This past week-end she suffered not one but two baths, a record in my house. I often have to trick her into taking a bath because she already recognizes the scent of her shampoo. If she catches a whiff, she zips out of sight and hides away in her little cave: a carrier-case lined with towels. I fish her out using a piece of ham as a lure. Once she realizes that she has been tricked, it is too late. Yet she doesn't give up without a fight.

She furiously tries to wriggle out of my grasp. She lunges at the border of her bathtub, trying to emancipate herself from her watery prison. She has a strong aversion to warm water and punctuates the intense scrubbing with a series of ear-piercing yelps. To punish me, she agitates and shakes, casting soapy water into my eyes. She eventually calms down when I rinse off the soap and pad her dry in a plush white towel.

Though she despises the cleaning ordeal, she demonstrates that she enjoys the result of smelling clean.

Fast-forward to this morning: I picked up Maddie and placed her on my lap. As I ran my fingers through her silky fur, I caressed an unfamiliar bump near her left leg. I parted the hairs to see a miniscule hard dot buried into her flesh. It was her arch-nemesis: the Tick.

My "ick" instinct would have me flee in complete terror...




...but I had to suppress it.

I am at once thoroughly disgusted at seeing such a beast and indignant that this blood-sucking parasite would dare latch on to MY dog after she had two baths. It must suffer for committing such a heinous infraction.

My choice of murder weapons include an eyebrow plucker and the sturdy heel of my shoe. Once I extricated the Tick using the plucker, I grabbed my makeshift hammer and...

Ding-dong, the Tick is dead!

My little act of bravery had me in a state of jubilation that I did a victory dance. Now, after washing my hands, I wonder if I should go dog-fishing to give the Demon Chihuahua a third bath...

Barb the French Bean