They bite and sting and suck

The blooming of the parasites is upon us. They never stopped being here, of course, but yesterday I picked three ticks off of my arms, black and grey, shiny of carapace, quite unselfconscious and without apology, clear and direct in their intent. This morning, one from Pryde, black and yellow, showier. I did my best to squelch a shudder of polite, feminine revulsion, to say nothing of the sudden desire to scrub myself all over with bleach. I will need to do something soon about the mosquito larvae in my water garden.

If it's mammalian and in my keeping, it's doused, bathed, oiled or pasted with chemicals, which I almost hate worse than the ticks, but hey, that thing probably wouldn't have stuck to my dog. Yesterday, in a confusion of large recalcitrant animals, rope and insecticide, a used tube of horse wormer brushed against the lip of my soda bottle without me noticing until I took a big drink. No wonder the horses hate it. Guess I won't get bots this summer, though.

Little biter, climbing up my arm, patient, armed with a hundred gleaming edges. I don't care for you to open me, thanks; my skin is covered enough in little scratches, tiny scars, all the patterns that tell the stories of my summers in minute detail. I'm jealous of my wet red life. But then that's the conversation you have with everybody. I know, and accept, and won't even grudge you the tiny bit you'll inevitably steal. Only the youngest of things walk this earth unscarred, after all. I know we're all on the menu, every one. You don't need to tell me. But then of course, that's what you do.


(P.S---see how this entry has no accompanying pictures? Aren't I nice?)

Wow, Marketing Fail!

I know that this is the fault of a computer, but it's still cracking me up. The ad banner for this company, which sells lab animal research equipment, just came up on a virtual pet site which is probably mostly visited by little kids, with a smattering of weird fur geeks like me. When I was ten and of the age when I'd have really obsessed over this site, it might have actually caused me some real upset.

Not that I believe that anyone old enough to read should be shielded from this ethical problem, but in context I find it kind of morbidly hilarious. I have these awful images of my cute little chicken smoothie pets in sterile plastic lab cages awaiting vivisection now. Especially since rats and bunnies are two of the species depicted on the site. Oops. ;D

And as long as I'm here, indulge me. Isn't this one just adorable? I'm all for morbid, stitchy Gaiman-inspired CS pets. Maybe next month, they'll do obviously experimented-on critters.


Pet's name: Sally
Adopt your own!