Let me set the scene....
We had just finished our dinner (that we order way too often) of chicken kabob salads from Giovanni's (Salem, not Woburn - not as good). Grey's anatomy was just starting, and the Halloween freaks were just beginning their nightly descent upon Salem. I was surfing the interweb and petting Finn when I said, hmm, what's that funny lump? I proceeded to look at it, poke at it, etc. I called Matt over and he said...that's a tick.
I then very calmy (code for shrieked) pushed Finn off my lap gently (code for tossed him across the room).
Then I washed my hands. Twice. With really hot water.
The, it was time for tick extraction. Who knew getting a tick off a dog was soooo much fun!!! Finn sat really still and let us pull it right out. NOT. It was really annoying. So after about 15 min. of wrangling Finn and holding his head (Could have really used a muzzle at this point) we get the tick off.
Times like this I'm really glad to have a man in the house. Because I would probably have gone home and made my dad do it if Matt wasn't there. Because it was sick.
RIP my favorite pair of tweezers.
Then, you have to burn the tick. FYI. who knew.
SO - phew, that's over. I give my little Finnie a sympathetic rub on the head. What's that?
ANOTHER TICK.
two ticks.
thanks K9 Advantix.
So, repeat the process.
Here's the patient after being poked and prodded for about 45 min.

He's just happy to be alive.
Of course now I'm paranoid Finn has lyme disease or some other exotic tick borne illness. We are calling the vet to have his hernia checked on anyway so we'll get it checked out.
Thank you Matt for patiently (code for "I'm goign to freak out! He won't sit still! YOU'RE IN MY LIGHT!!!!) pulling out the ticks.





