Friday night as we put the house to bed I went outside to turn the sprinkler off in the backyard. Mabel came with me, as she never misses a chance to chase and hunt less-fortunate creatures of the night.

As I leaned down to shut off the faucet valve, something buzzed and swarmed around my head, causing me to flail, stomp and squeal – not once, but three times – in my typical horror-show meets heebie-jeebie fashion.

Dom never heard a thing. :-/

I shook my shirt, swatted at my hair, and performed a quick examination to make sure no passengers were hitching a ride inside my home on me. Then I ran inside, followed closely by Mabel.

I did not care what Mabel was doing while I was dancing like a maniac at the faucet. I only cared that she was inside and that we could therefore lock out all the night creatures and go to bed.

Still rattled from my near-death experience (have I mentioned how much I hate flying bugs??!!!) I rounded the corner of the kitchen cabinet about to regale Dom with my story, when suddenly I heard a buzzing. A very loud, distinct buzzing.

Inside. My. Home.

I stalked the fridge to see if it was the ice maker. No. I looked at Dom in a panic and saw that he too could hear the buzzing, and that meant I wasn’t crazy. This was both good and bad.

We followed the buzzing into yet another room where it got louder. We looked at the bar, at the light fixture, and finally at Mabel, who was looking at us with keen interest as well. Upon making eye contact, she bounced once and the buzzing stopped. Then it started up again and she turned and ran away from us, taking the buzzing with her.

“She has something in her mouth! A LOUD something that is very much ALIIIIIIIIVVVE!” I squealed to Dom. I admit I probably sounded a little like Dr. Frankenstein. Unintentionally, of course.

His reply: “She has a locust. She’s done this before. Go let her out, and hurry!”

So my screaming and running and panicking and nearly dying started all over again as I ran through two rooms yelling Mabel’s name and begging her to keep her mouth closed. Can you just imagine Mabel opening her mouth, unleashing that god-awful Bug of the Apocalypse? I fumbled with the key in the lock and did my scaredy-cat dance hoping she wouldn’t kick-start Judgment Day right there in my garden room. (FYI: I don’t pretend to know how the world will end. I just pray that Mabel and bugs are not key on the agenda!) Mabel obediently ran back outside, where she dropped the locust in the grass and proceeded to toy with him until she was ready to eat him. I begged her to leave him in the grass, but her obedience limit had been met for the day. She chomped, then gulped, and then sauntered back inside.

Moments later, upstairs, she had the nerve to curl up next to me and ask for kisses. It was then that I realized in her mind, she had saved me from the locust. She does not realize that she caused me greater panic by bringing the bug inside. She just thinks she rescued me, since I was the one wigging out at the faucet in the first place.

All things considered, I think I’d rather see her eat my sunscreen again.

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