8-23-2001 - 8:07 p.m.
There are bumble bees living under our deck. We've known about them since we moved in but, since we can't think of any recourse except (a) tearing up the deck or (b) lying in wait with a can of insecticide to kill each bee as it flies out, then fleeing until it's dead and waiting to do it all over again for the next, we've been too lazy to do anything about them. There aren't many and they're only out in the early morning, so we've managed to avoid each other.
Until today.
My dog doesn't know squat about bees. He's a nice dog, but he's not bright and thinks the rest of the world is as nice as he. (With the exception of anyone or anything on the other side of a door. That's obviously evil incarnate to him.) Anyway - I let him out this afternoon to take care of business and he noticed a bee either coming or going and decided to take a closer look. Maybe there's a door down there he's not defending yet.
Yarp!
The bee apparently took umbrage to this casual investigation.
Solo came running at me, ears back, tail between his legs, carrying a fat, hairy bumble bee on his shoulder. I hate bees. No, I should qualify that - I hate being stung by bees, which is what I anticipated would happen if Solo got much closer to me. So I ran to the opposite end of the deck, hoping the bee would consider his work done and fly off.... No such luck. Solo bucked around with it clinging to him, perhaps going for another sting, until it occurred to him that maybe he could rub it off on something.... and the closest something is me.
At about the same moment, I noticed the broom and had a similar notion. I have no idea what any neighbors who saw us might have thought - a short woman with a big broom circling and being circled by a panicked rotte. This crazy dance went on for a few minutes before Solo, as terrified of this broom as the bee on his back, bolted for the house.
Did I mention I hadn't pulled the door to when I came out?
The dog charged into the back door, pushed it open, and ran into the house with the bee on his back like a jockey at Preakness. I was a few steps behind with the broom. Solo dashed for the kitchen - safe spot #1, under the table. I chased him back toward the door. But that's outside - where the stingy things live! Solo doubled back, up the stairs to safe spot #2 - under my bed. I'm still in pursuit, whisper-yelling so I don't wake up the napping toddler. Another confrontation with the broom and I forced him back outside.
But the bee isn't on his back anymore.
Check the kitchen. No bee. The hallway. No bee. The stairs. No bee. Under the bed. No bee. I'm just standing up, wondering where this thing as gone when the motion detector goes off - buzzzzzzz. It's on the bed, about two inches from my nose, vibrating its wings for all it's worth. Now, I watch the Learning Channel. I know things warn you before they bite or sting. So I consider myself warned and get the hell out, closing the door behind me.
I called my husband. (He was a boy scout. There must be a merit badge for this sort of thing). He just made puns ("Leave it bee, honey") and promised to take care of it when he got home. And I emailed Susie, who gave me some common sense advice ("Don't try to catch it with your hands unless it has a white dot on its nose." Like I was going to get that close again).
Mike is presently arming himself to go get the bee... I'll update, if it's anything worth writing about.... I hope it's not. I really hate bees...
