The moment I realized those tiny, reddish clusters weren’t harmless specks but tick eggs, the fear felt wildly disproportionate to their size. It wasn’t just disgust; it was the knowledge of what they could become — thousands of hungry little parasites marching toward my dog, my niece, my own skin. I wanted to scream, cry, and light a match, all at once. Instead, I put on gloves, grabbed a jar of rubbing alcohol, and started removing them slowly, deliberately, like defusing a living landmine.
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