Tick - in both senses of the word

Ticks. In scholastic terms, a marvellous positive. A sense of accomplishment against the lines of a to-do list. In some cases they help you run faster in a swooshy fashion. Not so, when attached to Miss P's shoulder - put quite frankly, our immediate reaction was "oh crap" followed by a small wave of panic because whilst we've all heard of them, we've never had to deal with one before. "I think you burn them off with a match," I said to Mr M who looked at me as though I was mad.

Quick google image check - tick. Quick search on how to deal with it (not with a match) - tick. Quick trip to the nearest pet shop to pick up de-ticking implements - tick.

We set up a makeshift operating station - tick remover, latex gloves, antiseptic, cotton pads, tick bite cream, jar with surgical spirit for disposing the tick in, you name it, we had it. I am horribly squeamish but rubbish at holding down a squirming cat so had already guessed which role I would end up with. On went the latex gloves.

The tick remover is brilliant. Just twirl and twirl, and twirl a little bit more, and the little blighter twists off. Then stick it, and the remover, in the surgical spirit (kills it - see, in the jar!), dab the wound with the antiseptic and then smear on the bite cream. Which all sounds very simple, some would say calm, doesn't it? Pah. Getting Miss P, aka The Eel, to stay still was a challenge and a half, which meant getting the tick remover onto the tick was somewhat tricky. Then there was the small matter of me jumping higher than the cat when the tick remover first touched the tick and it moved!!! Its little legs started wiggling - which totally and utterly freaked me out. The second attempt was a success - which is astonishing given my now racing heart, shaking hands and sweaty brow, not to mention a freaked out cat and wiggling tick. The steady stream of expletives helped. I needed a sit down afterwards and would have happily necked a stiff drink - thankyouverymuch. But being utterly British, and lunchtime, I stuck the kettle on for a cup of tea.

Who knew we could make such a palaver over something that the average dog owner has to deal with all the time. At least we know what to do next time although I suspect I'll still feel nauseous and in a need of a whisky.