No joke. I try to approach my daily life with a certain level of compassion, optimism, and general good natured-ness. But sitting down to write this blog post about ticks has me a little… well, ticked off.
I cannot stand these nasty, hitchhiking freeloaders and can’t find anything redeeming to say about them. I mean the general nastiness of a tick is enough to get me started. Crab-like, creepy-crawly, and either so big they make my stomach turn or so small I have to say to myself, mid-squint “Is that a tick or a beauty mark?” They’re already losing points, big time, on looks alone.
Then, the fact that they live on blood? Well, I like vampires as much as the next gal, but these bloodsuckers are a far cry from Brad Pitt in Interview with a Vampire, or Angel, or Spike for that matter (my adherence to certain standards makes me unable to make any allusion to inferior vampire works that involve sparkly, lovesick vampires.)
But what really gets me is this: that ticks have stolen something from outdoor life. They made jumping in the leaves, rolling down hills, napping with dogs, picnics, and gardening—dangerous and potentially hazardous to your health. I have to admit that I cringe when we sit in the grass, throw leaves around in the fall. And I pray nightly that my low-rider dog didn’t pick up any freeloading ticks in his romp in the backyard.
So, because there isn’t a Buffy the Tick Slayer, I deal. Ticks aren’t going anywhere. In fact, their numbers are increasing, and their territory is spreading. We have to learn to arm ourselves with the tools and knowledge needed to prevent tick bites and Lyme disease. (I was going to say we needed wooden stakes and garlic, but thought that would be taking it too far. Plus, I envisioned people stabbing their lawns and sprinkling garlic powder on their children and thought… nah…)