So, after a nice, quiet dinner with my darling husband, we were settling in to watch a flick when my husband asked if he had a scratch on his side (closer to his back) between his ribs. I looked at the spot, never anticipating what I saw - a TICK was happily feasting on my husband! The bloody Vampire! So I am ashamed to say that I panicked and grabbed tweezers to remove it - broke the sucker in two, but despite repeated attempts, the head with its nasty barbed mouth was too deep. More tweezing, poking with a sterilized pin, cleaning, neosporin-ing, and a big gauze bandage, he is recovering. But here is the thing... I mentioned the panic? Well, It was fairly late at night when we made the discovery of the little bloodsucker, and I did not know who to call to be sure that I was meeting my husband's medical needs, so as any child is dutifully taught, I dialed 911. My husband came in at that moment and proclaimed, "Oh, you're not calling 911 are you?" I panicked again (I do GREAT in a crisis, huh?) and hung up after 1 ring. "Great!" Says my husband, "get ready for a call back from the 911 operator." No call came. Instead, about 10 minutes later, a knock that would have done the Gestapo proud announced the presence of our fine local police officer, checking that all was well in our house! All because of my panic over a vampiric bug!