Exciting time in the ol’ Write Up The Road office tonight – the cats were all getting ready to go to bed, when Pete ambled over to get a drink of water. And stopped in his tracks.
And I’m very glad he did – there was a gigantic red wasp, floating and struggling in the water! If Pete had lowered his head – or worse yet, his tongue – he may have been stung by a wasp trying to save itself from drowning. Whew!
I shooed Ta’Male away from the water bucket and tried to think how to get rid of the wasp without any of us getting stung. I didn’t want to fish it out and try to step on an enraged wasp – not wearing shorts, I wouldn’t.
Luckily a good angel whispered in my ear to catch the wasp in a small plastic cup that I use for mixing paint colors, and quickly slap a piece of cardboard over the top to keep the wasp in the cup. Then I should be able to get him to the door of the office on the floor below.
Worked like a charm. I zipped down the stairs, raced across the floor and opened the door all in one motion (I’d bet it was, anyway) and threw the plastic cup and wasp out away from the door as far as I could.
Fred looked disappointed when I came back up the stairs.
“Didn’t you get a picture of the water bucket with the wasp swimming in it?“
Um, no, Fred, I didn’t. I didn’t even think of it, actually.
“Oh, rats! That would’ve made a great picture entry in our Dishunary under ‘wasp.’ “
Fred, the nearest emergency vet is an hour’s drive away. And if someone had gotten stung, it would’ve really, really hurt, all the way there. I got a picture of the water bucket to show our readers, is that any good?
“Yeah, well, I gotcha. But I bet that photo would’ve gotten a Pawlitzer Prize for Best Photo.”
Once a Freditor, always a Freditor. sigh.