Telling ticks to stay off my dogs

The Day I Told a Tick, “Get Off My Poodle!”

If you told me ten years ago that I’d one day be squatting in my backyard, wearing horn-rimmed glasses, and engaging in a serious conversation with a tick, I’d have laughed you out of the room. Yet, here I am—a slim, bespectacled, and self-proclaimed sophisticated goofball, using my peculiar skills to keep my fur baby safe and itch-free.

It all started with Bubbles, my ridiculously fluffy and perpetually spoiled miniature poodle. Bubbles has a knack for attracting drama, whether it’s stealing socks or rolling in mud right after a bath. This time, the drama came in the form of an uninvited guest: a tick.

I’ll admit, my first instinct wasn’t exactly serene. I gasped. I panicked. I considered dusting her down with diatomaceous earth. But then, I remembered my secret talent: animal communication. Yes, it’s a real thing— in my world and in the world of many esteemed others.

I’ve always had a way with animals. Cats purr louder around me, birds seem to sing just a bit sweeter, and dogs wag their tails like I’m a walking treat dispenser. So why not try talking to a tick? It couldn’t hurt, right?

I crouched down to poodle level, adjusted my glasses for dramatic effect, and addressed the tick directly. “Hey there, little buddy,” I began, trying to channel all the sophistication and sincerity I could muster. “I’m sure you’re just trying to survive, but let’s be real—Bubbles’ fur isn’t exactly the Ritz-Carlton of tick accommodations. Wouldn’t you prefer a nice wild animal, a deer perhaps? Something more… rustic?”

Bubbles tilted her head at me, seeming to understand my intention.  I pressed on. “I’m not saying you’re a bad tick,” I continued. “You’re just in the wrong place. Think of this as me helping you find your true home.”

To my utter amazement—and I swear I’m not making this up—the tick actually let go. It plopped onto the ground with an almost imperceptible thud. I stared at it, dumbfounded, while Bubbles gave a triumphant bark. I quickly scooped the tick onto a leaf and relocated it to a patch of grass far, far away from my poodle’s luxurious coat. “There now kind tick, go attach to a nice grass fed deer in the wild, they’re far tastier.

Was it my words? My tone? Some mysterious energy exchange? I’ll never know for sure. But one thing’s certain: the power of connection is real, even if it’s between a human, a poodle, or a tiny, stubborn parasite.  The power of intention and the knowledge that EVERYTHING has the ability to communicate and a desire to be accepted for who they are.

So, here’s my advice to fellow animal lovers: don’t underestimate the power of a little conversation. Whether it’s with your pet, a squirrel, or even a tick, you never know what a kind word and a bit of humor can achieve. And if all else fails, well, there’s always the diatomaceous earth.  But if we prefer to communicate rather than kill, the whole world would be a better place.

As for Bubbles? She’s back to her usual antics, blissfully aware of the epic battle of wits that just unfolded and appreciative that her human guardian can talk a tick off her back. And me? I’m just a slim, bespectacled, sophisticated goofball with one more wild story to tell.