I was out in the backyard a few weeks ago, wrestling with my aging, temperamental lawnmower, when it happened. My golden retriever, Mochi, was stretched out contentedly under the oak tree—grateful, no doubt, that his job description didn’t include yard work.
That’s when I felt it: a faint, persistent itch on my ankle. Not quite a mosquito bite, not quite a stray blade of grass—just… something. I glanced down.
And there it was.
A small black speck, firmly attached, showing no intention of leaving. My stomach dropped. Without thinking, I
