Walk through the brush or under the treeline at your own peril.

Last year I took my son to the Pons every day while training dogs and every evening we would pick ticks like chimps in a zoo for about an hour; combing through hair, looking down backs, checking ears.

The dogs were not exempt. I figured we spent as much time picking ticks as we did training dogs.

Ticks are the reasons I do not eat raisins. Too many similarities.

Gina, I feel for you. I found one in my cleavage once. I’d been pruning grapes all day. Pants tucked into socks? Check. Long sleeve shirt? Check.
But a v-neck…. whoops! Blech! And YES on the long hot shower too.

The chiggers were a surprise, in California my whole life and had no clue they were here. Poor dogs got it far worse than I did, thankfully they are kept at bay by any anti-tick regiment.

Still, I prefer them to icksy-nasty ticks, any day.

Will just call you TG for short…tick girl.
:-)

To a nice Thai restaurant afterwards — white tablecloth place. Had a fish called sandab for the first time, excellent.

And there we are, having a terribly civilized meal and stimulating conversation, and casually, without a hitch in a sentence, poker-faced, picking the ticks off our necks, hairlines, clothing, arms and squishing them in a paper towel that I’d liberated from the restroom and flushed at the end of the meal. No other patron or staff could have suspected what was going on, for no normal person would ever allow their imaginations to go there.

Only SAR handlers …

The dogs all got Frontline that day — after we picked 40-50 ticks off each of them. No Frontline for Peoples.

I’m just glad we had the English shepherds, and no German shepherds, with us on that outing. Much more difficult to find the ticks in the denser GSD coats.