[N.B]: With apologies, the second-named protagonist in the following saga is a wasp (not a bee): However, the alteration of insect in the title sounds more euphonious.
Our regular readers know that we are cat owners, never owning fewer than two cats at a time. In an early writing, we indicated that the breed chosen has universally been “Devon Rex.” The Devon looks pretty much like the stereotypical alley cat, but lacks the common layer of feline “dander” under its fur, and so is non-allergenic. Additionally, notable are the subtle head wrinkles and short whiskers.
Our present lovable, furry tenants are “Gelato,” a masked face, gray, white, and brown, common-size cat, and a small, pink-nosed, snow-white, kitten-like (albeit mature) cat named “Bela” after Belarus, the country of her birth; the latter being the dramatic heroine of the present saga. However, before the revelation of the contextual episode, it would seem useful to reprise some earlier observations.
As recognized in such early writing, cats require less care than dogs; the latter require regular walking, irrespective of weather or busy schedule, while cats can unassistedly utilize a “litter box” for their natural needs (see: early writing “Literate Felines…”). However, domestic cats have a relatively short life span, viz., 10 to 15 years; as an empirical consequence, we have lived with several succeeding members of that warm and lovable species.
Our beloved Feline Dynasty includes “Cicero, ” regal, dignified, and contemplative; “Anchovie,” mischievous, rambunctious, lover of kosher-style deli, “Kudu,” regal, Victorian and adorned with a luxurious, Sax Fifth Avenue quality fur coat, “Gelato,” and “Bela” (see above). Bela, singularly, has a nuanced, squeaky “meow.” Needless to say, all of our pets have been the recipients of the status of “adjunct family members” and have been loved and treated accordingly, as ought to be the universal case regarding pet ownership.
It is contextually necessary to individualize our singular protagonist, “Bela.” While it has been our observation that pet cats, like their feral relatives, are acrobatic and agile, Bela, if she were a human gymnast, would qualify as a stellar performer at Le Cirque de Soliel or Ringling Brothers. She does not quietly pad into a room like other members of her species; she bounces into the scene. She is systemically energetic and gymnastic; we have humorously called her “slinky” because of her perpetual bounce and athleticism. In addition, Bela seems to regard herself as a talented and dedicated hunter. The instinct that motivates pussycats to pursue and paw at moving objects, including bugs, has been developed by her into a fine art. Any observed moving insect, regardless of size, venue, or speed, is not safe from her Olympic skills. It is an accepted feature of cat owners to anthropomorphize the movements or the perceived mood of cats, and we, in candor, plead guilty to that accusation. In our fantasized observation, she seems to revel in the successful capture of critters barely visible to the human eye. To further confess to our anthropomorphic inclination, we admire her skill and prowess in her chosen sport.
Yesterday afternoon, while engrossed in some routine and peaceful reading in our large windowed living room, we heard a painful, but all too recognizable, (squeaky) cry emanating from the area of one of the windows. We saw Bela agonizingly raising and licking her right front paw, and, to our perception, crying for relief. We found the tiny offending wasp, removed the small stinger from Bela’s paw, and attempted to soothe and relax the little sweetheart. As she stopped crying, we were able to discern the swollen right paw and surmised that, as was eminently probable, Bela had instinctively popped her paw on the moving wasp and was rewarded with the painful sting. Thereafter, we were downcast, observing that her paw was quite swollen and presumably quite uncomfortable.
To our relief, we were overjoyed the following morning to see little Bela bounce into the living room with her usual balletic penache.
-p.
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