Cooper would come home from his walk and before I even sat down I had to check him. Behind the ears. Between the toes. Under the armpits. Around the collar. Down the belly. Every walk, every time.
About one walk in three I would find one. A small, swollen black dot already attached, already feeding. I would freeze, get the tick remover, pull it off, drop it in alcohol, and feel that drop in my stomach for the rest of the evening.
Cooper noticed. He started pulling away when I reached for him after walks, like he was tired of the ritual too. That was when I knew something had to change.