I’m in the kitchen making breakfast for the huskies while Angelus stares at me (im)patiently. I hear BAM, BAM and paw scurrying. Run into living room as Storm is chasing a clearly disoriented bee around the room. He (the bee) finally hits the floor and Storm grabs it. NO!!! Both huskies have done this before and you end up with a swollen-lipped and/or tongued husky that you have to tweeze the stinger out of – no fun!
He drops it and the bee is flailing and buzzing so he grabs it again. NO! I yell again. Meanwhile Angelus, who had come in to see what the ruckus was, see/hears/smells the bee and says “Outta here” and goes and sits by the stairs. He and I have the bee-fear ever since we were viciously attacked by a a paramilitary bee hive and stung a bunch of times. So I am fighting my feeling of “run to the other room” too.
The bee is now under a chair where Storm is trying to get it but then stops each time I say NO. But then the bee moves and Storm is like “Come on!”
So I grab the cover off a shoe box my husband left in the living room and cover the bee. Try to show Storm – see bee is gone. Move along, move along, nothing to see here…
Run in the kitchen, grab a big cup and then slide the box top off and put the cup over the bee, a piece of paper under the bee and toss him over the side of the deck. Of course, the entire time imagining him as a cartoon Disney bee and him falling and so get sad. But then decide it was him or the huskies. I had to protect the huskies.
Storm just looked at me said “Really Mom? YOU had to protect ME from the bee? That’s the story we’re going with?”
