Ticked Off

I have a Yorkie named Fifi. When you read that, what mental image comes to mind. This?

Uh, no. Think this:

Fifi, covered in mud and thorn branches.

Cock-a-burs, dead leaves and mud balls. Oh my.

Which always results in this:

How does my sweet little foofooey dog get this way?

This is the view from my back door. We don't have a fence (yet!) so when the children come in or out, Fifi gets out and 9 times out of 10 heads up into the woods.

For some reason people think of Yorkies as cute little purse dogs. The reality is that they were breed for hunting rats, badgers and foxes. This innate characteristic draws Fifi to the woods time and time again.

Sigh...

Yesterday, one of the many small children that live in this house opened the back door and Fifi sprinted off into the woods, only to reappear a few hours later. Covered in ticks. I had given her flea and tick medicine a few days before but when I rechecked the box, it was expired. Great. What was I to do? Obviously they had to come off.

True Swank style, I sat at the kitchen counter holding Fifi while Ryan, Emma, Jenna and Gauge sat on stools watching, oh and eating a snack. What's a show without refreshments? Whatever keeps the kids entertained. I got a pair of tweezers and a clear disposable cup and got to work. It only took removing one live tick, placing it in the cup and watching it climb to the top and make a break for freedom to realize I needed a new strategy. Water. Sure it wouldn't drown them but it would contain them.

I filled the cup halfway with water and sure enough, the ticks were having a swimming party. As I pulled off tick #16 or so, Emma decided to climb onto the kitchen counter. I was busy holding a squirming ticked infested dog so I asked Jenna to please help get Emma. (What was I thinking?) I continued to pull off ticks as Jenna took her sweet time and Emma made her way over to the cup. As I was pulling off tick #19 (or so) Emma slipped on the counter and fell on top of the Cup O'Ticks. The cup turned over releasing ticks and water all over the counter, floor and Emma.

Who said nothing exciting happens here?

Fifi was dropped, Emma was crying, Jenna and the boys were screaming and I was quickly trying to figure out how to contain 20 loose, live ticks that were camouflaged by a brown counter and a wood floor. I quickly grabbed some paper towels and started wiping anything within 3 feet, stuffing the towels into the empty cup and placing the cup in a ziploc bag. But I still had a dog with hidden ticks. And screaming children.

I announced a shopping trip to Petco and Target, which stopped the screaming. Fifi was sequestered into the powder room and I spent the next 10 minutes readjusting car seats and booster seats in my bus van. Finally, 4 small children were loaded in the van and off we went.

Again, what was I thinking??? It actually went quite well, other then the distraction of about 15 dogs up for adoption outside of Petco. Jenna begged for a Jack Russell terrier. I merely looked at her like she had lost her ever lovin' mind, which she obviously had. Are you kidding me? New flea and tick medicine was purchased and we walked over to Target next door to buy a new booster seat so the car seat/booster seat relay would be a thing of the past.

As we wandered through Target, me congratulating myself on how well things were going with both boys sitting nicely in the seats in front of the cart and Emma sitting sweetly her seat, Emma proceeds to lift up her dress and stick her hand down the front of her diaper. And keep it there. Can 22 month olds be arrested for lewd behavior? I didn't really want to find out. Just as I got to her to pull her hand out, she pulled it out herself, fingers covered in poop.

Of course, I didn't have any wipes with me, or tissues, but thank goodness for the countless number of receipts in the bottom of my purse. They finally had some usefulness. We quickly made our way to the front, washed Emma's hand, paid for our purchases and proceeded to the van where I laid Emma down on the van floor and changed her nasty diaper in plain site. What good is living in Missouri if I can't play the hillbilly card? There was no way on earth I was dragging all those kids back in the store. And to my credit, since I was playing the hillbilly card, I didn't throw the diaper in the parking lot for someone to step on.

So what's the moral of this story? Beats me, but the next time I get a dog it's going to be a stuffed one. Taxidermy.