Feel my Wasp-loathing Wrath
I thought we had a truce, an understanding, an appreciation for one another. Apparently, the wasps thought otherwise.
After the “Battle of the Retaining Wall” (my name for the stinging event that took place on our first day of work on the house), the wasps attempted to demoralize me and to bully me, but they never again sought to assault me. This behavior was all a ploy, a performance to disguise their true plot.
This morning, Alex took Newton out in the backyard for a potty break.
As Newton was going about his business, he stepped near the entrance to a yellow jacket nest.
Wasps swarmed out of the ground and bombarded him from all sides.
Alex coaxed Newton over to the pool, while Newton flailed about trying to bite the wasps that had latched on to him. Once Newton made it to the edge of the pool, Alex pushed him in, which forced the wasps to call of their violent attack.
Let’s get something straight here, wasps: You can attack me, persecute me, and terrorize me. But the minute you turn your spiteful eyes toward an innocent puppy, you invoke the full fury of this furry friend lover.
Just look at this pathetic face.
As I cradled Newton’s shaking body (if you’d seen the heartrending look on his face, you would’ve too), l told him I knew what he was going through, and I pulled out the stinger.
Newton’s little nose must have been the most appealing spot to attack. There is evidence of three different locations, on his nose alone, where those demons rammed their spikes into him.
His nose swelled up, and he looked like the Wishbone version of Cyrano De Bergerac.