A tick tale
OK, so about 30 years ago (wow, long time) I had a birthday party for my wife, would've been her 28th. We were living in Vadnais Heights at the time. My wife always wanted a dog, and I had given her a puppy from the Mpls Humane Society about 9 months earlier. Odd dog, half Springer, half Whippet. Fastest animal I have ever seen.
So anyway, my neighbor is a Schmidt beer salesman, he brings a keg and a kegerator for the party. I invite a bunch of people, including a bunch of fraternity brothers she hasn't seen in years. Good party, no, great party. Of course, I have been drinking with my fraternity brothers whom I also haven't seen for a long time, and no one, including me, is feeling any pain.
Our house had a private bath off the master, it was one of those classic Minnesota suburban early 80's split entry houses, bedroom in the front, living room in the back. Anyway, I gotta pee, so I stumble into the bathroom, and when I come out my wife has her new dog (the fastest animal on earth) and says "Honey, there's something wrong with the dog." So I take a look, and there, on her neck, right below her ear, is a big tick, well into her skin by now.
So, somehow I remember that putting alcohol on a tick will get it to back out, so I poured rubbing alcohol on the dog, really soaking her fur. If you ever thought of doing this, it doesn't work, and now I have an alcohol soaked dog, with a tick.
Time for plan B. Did I mention that part about the excessive beer consumption? Well, plan B was not well thought out. Thirty years ago I was still smoking, and I remembered that a match will get the tick to back out. So, I take the BIC lighter out of my pocket, turn the flame up, and hold it down by the tick.
Remember the part about the alcohol soaked fur? FOOOOM! the dog goes up in a big blue flame ball, oddly enough doesn't yell. My wife, however, does, and now it's time to implement Plan C, also not well thought out. I decide to beat the flames out by beating on the poor dog, who has done nothing wrong. Now, the dog (fastest animal in the world) takes off on a tear yelping like crazy, running down the hall smoking, out the door, past the now surprised drunks, and across the street into the field.
My wife makes me go look for the now burnt and battered dog, so I am now stumbling in this wetlands, drunk, at night, looking for a dog who really has no desire to ever see me again. I finally found her and got her back home.
The dog lived another 17 years, but oddly enough, always kept about a half a step away from me.
Oh yeah, I got the tick!