NOPE

This was supposed to be a clever post about the perils of hiking in tick territory. I planned on juxtaposing the joy of walking dogs through perfumed spring air with the paralyzing fear of finding a tick on your dog, after said walk. There was going to be poetry. 

This is not poetry.

This is a tick. (Actual size of horror, tick not to scale. Nearly.) 

THIS was in MY hair. And then it was flying through the air, then bouncing off the deck, then squished in heroic fingers, thank you dear, and then swirling down the toilet bowl of an accommodating and lovely person, who was completely okay with a stranger sitting for the next two hours, nervously scrubbing her scalp (not hers, mine) and rocking back and forth on her porch (not mine, hers).

In light of this latest experience I am going to have to revise my Provincial Scale of Danger...Scale...as follows:

1. Manitoba, on account of the ticks
2. British Columbia, (previously Number 1) for retired air force members behind the wheel, and sharks
3. Alberta, neighbours
4. Ontario, humidity and sudden hillbillies (sorry, bro)
5. R.O.C., mosquitoes and whatnot

TICKS: you should go back 
inside (not the ticks, you).