My skin crawled before my brain caught up.
Those weren’t dirt clumps. They were eggs. Tick eggs. Thousands of future bloodsuckers glistening in my own backyard. My first instinct? Fire. My second? Move. But running wouldn’t save my dog, my niece, or anyone who ever stepped on that grass. So I grabbed gloves, rubbing alcohol, and turned into a full-on tick extermi… Continues…