Death is never a small thing

I could feel the violence, right to my core.

I’d pulled a tick off my “tick-magnet,” Belle.  It was just strolling atop her minklike coat. I’d been cleaning my glasses, already had a tissue in my hand, so pulled it off with that. Its tiny legs quested. I folded the tissue and squished it.

Hard. Because I know ticks are really difficult to squish.  I pressed even harder as I walked into the bathroom.  I wanted it truly dead, not just wounded — and then, as I flushed it, have it suffer being drowned.

Does this sound funny to you? I mean, not like a clown — but ridiculous-funny?

I know it was a tick — an arachnid and a vector of disease.  And, — bottom line — it was posing a threat to my dog. But it was a life.

I ended it.

One minute it was blithely walking around, perhaps preparing for a bite to eat. (Just following nature’s course for it) . The next minute, it’s entire world is a miasma of pain and violence.

I could not not think that.  Feel that, rather. A roil of nightmare.

So I wrote it down. Maybe it’ll help me not think.

Or maybe I’ll think more.



Dog grooming the car

My  new car needed some recalibration, so  I got a loaner car from Audi, which is a very dog-friendly company. I mean, they have bowls of water for dogs who come to their showroom (with their people, of course). One of my dogs, Belle, had a seizure there while I was in for a service appointment, and half of the employees were standing over here, asking what they could do.

Anyway, I got this loaner Audi while my car was in the shop. And the agreement said dogs weren’t allowed in the car — which I thought was weird for such a dog-friendly place, although I did understand the ban. The agreement also said there would be a $100 charge if a dog was in the car — which I thought was just right for a dog-friendly place. I mean, do you know how much so-called “pet-friendly” hotels charge for the friendliness of letting your dog stay in their rooms? It could be up to $250, Thanks a lot.

Anyway, i’m taking back the loaner today, and there are, well a couple of strands of dog fur in the car. I mean, anywhere I go,  I leave strands of dog fur. It is the cross (fur) I bear for being home to two dogs, one of whom needs Furmination every single day.

So I start by taking my little portable vacuum out to the car. Then realize there are some stubborn strands that really need more suck-up power than the hand-held can provide. I plucked up the mats and brought them inside, to use the real-size vacuum on them.

Big mistake.

Bringing the floor mats into my house was like … well, bringing a magnet into an iron shavings factory. I plopped the mats down on the carpet runners on my floor and ran the Big Serious Vacuum Cleaner over them, And yes, while it took off some of the fur, when I turned them over, mon Dieu! the backs looked like something out of an allergy commercial, Fluff, everywhere.

I rushed the things outside,  away from our fur-infested environment, flapping them in the vain hope of dislodging strands  Then I plopped them on the black Audi’s car hood, and thought. I needed the heavy artillery: adhesive rollers.
I found two, and began rolling. A tip: it’s better if you unroll a long strip and then massage it against the critically furred patch of whatever.  By the end, there were long swaths of the tape all over the driveway.

and one on the nice black hood. I pulled it off, cautiously, without removing any of the paint. But leaving, well,  dots of the adhesive. I began scratching it off with my nail. Not efficient, and I could see my nail marks on the black shiny hood. I thought of nail polish remover (a solvent that in recent years has been disappointing me even in the area of nail polish removal) and decided it would probably take off the paint. I stomped into the house, deciding to lay the blame on my husband for leaving me here with the fur-erasure problem in the first place.

“So what am I supposed to do, use nail polish remover and then pay for a new hood?” I snarled into the phone.

Perhaps it was the “new hood” reference — since he could imagine how much a new hood might cost. More likely, he is just practical and smart. He said, “I don’t know, try some very hot water. With soap.”

I did.

It worked.

At least it seemed to. Hot water, non-scratch sponge. Poof! white adhesive spots gone. Paint still holding fast — at least it was when I left to come back in, warm up my fingers, report success to my husband, and write this post.

I trust the hood will still be a glossy, uniform black when I go back out to drive the loaner back to Audi for my own car.

In the meantime, I would love love love it if anyone could recommend the perfect vacuum cleaner for pet hair.