stinger in the tongue

“For the despairing man, there should be kindness from his friend.”–Job 6:14, The New American Standard

Today a wasp got trapped in my living room. In desperation he dashed himself from window to ceiling to furniture. I could have simply and politely held the front door open and let him fly into freedom. But in my fear I began running around the room flailing at arms at him which didn’t help the situation. It ended when Roy came to my rescue with blue fly swatter and smacked the wasp against the window sill.

As I watched him twitching to death, I remembered another wasp incident many years ago. Wrinkles, our part Sharpei, part chow, part Lab, part whatever mutt of a dog, had just joined our family. A reject at the puppy farm she was way past puppyhood and well into the defiant puberty. She had a mind of her own and did as she pleased. Surrounded by woods, strange animals and insects, our home was doggy heaven. One muggy summer day a wasp that was trying to enter our home got smacked down by my husband and lay twitching on the porch. Wrinkles went diving towards the wasp. In spite of the many commands to “stay,” she lunged forward and took the dying wasp in her mouth. In desperation, the wasp attempted one last victory before being chewed to its death by Wrinkles. He stung Wrinkles in her tongue! With a yelp Wrinkles began running around in circles, alternatly grating her tongue against her front teeth and sticking her paw in her mouth. But the stinger was firmly and painfully implanted in her pink and black Sharpei-wannabe tongue. No way could she take the stinger out of her mouth by herself. It took three of us. Jez sat on her to hold her down and Roy held her mouth open while I used a pair of tweezers.

Some things we just can’t do by ourselves.

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