Like any good poochie parent, when one of the pups in my care did their business I scooped it up and threw it out. At my local dog park, the garbage is actually outside the gate, so I reached over and knocked it in and sat back down on a bench.
After about a minute, I smacked my arm. Looking, there was an ant biting the heck out of me. And then I saw five more, and then I saw that I was covered. Politely, addressing the other dog owners I said, "Excuse me while I go undress," because my mama raised a lady. Hahaha. I ran into the trees, ripped off my shirt and tried to get them off me and my clothes. Those things latch on with a purpose, let me tell you.
(Side note: Who would have guessed that my moment of public indecency would have happened after my years in the Navy?)
Retracing my steps, I found the point of embarkation. Those little ____ had made a nest on the fence line right in front of the trash can.
And then I thought of my poor puppy. No wonder he had gone after his tale the way he did. And that made the hot spot, and that led to the vet visit, and my Relay with a messed up tail. By the way, his tail is looking better. The scabs are almost off and the hair is growing back (just not that patch by his butt.) Part of me is glad to know for certain that his trip to the vet was in fact caused by ant bites and not some unidentifiable malady. And I'm certainly glad it was at the park and not at my home. But maybe my next empathetic epiphany won't include public embarrassment.
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