It’s that time of year


Bichos. Garrapatas. Sheep or goat ticks whatever you call them.

I don’t like them in my fur. And I don’t like it at all when they get hooked in, and master pulls them off.

Mistress usually screams. Wimp. And calls for master.

Normally I don’t get them because master and mistress give me drops every couple of months.

But at the moment when we walk up the track, there are lots of goats and sheep. There are also lots of horses and donkeys round here too.

So when we get home master looks at me very carefully and checks me with his hands too in case any of them have jumped on me when they have been hiding in the shadows, waiting for me to go past.

There are more of them at this time of year because of the change in the weather. It is too cold in winter for them and too hot in summer.

It’s a good thing I have lots of pale fur, because they stand out. They look like little dark spiders although they only have six legs. And because master and mistress always look for them, they don’t get chance to stay long.

I have tablets too. There is nothing wrong with me, but there are also lots of fleas around here in the countryside with all the animals and especially the feral cats.

Mistress isn’t keen on dosing me up to the eyeballs with stuff, but we all think it is better than me carrying a load of hangers-on.

Especially when I sleep on the sofa.

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