THE KILLER BEE (& THE PHANTOM POOPER)

• **The “Preston” stories come from his facebook, experiences that he posts as they occur running his Doggie Daycare-Boarding facility with “cabins” for his “clients”. Not kennels. He gives each “guest” personal time. The man is amazing. Where he gets his energy I do not know.
• Disclaimer: Preston Pilant is my nephew. He is everything that was good about my brother but his passion for animals is definitely my father coming out — Pilant genes carried through another generation.***

Episode 3 of 1000

I have a couple stories from the last few days that I haven’t had a chance to share, and frankly, you all deserve to know about the dangers I face simply trying to exist around here.

First up…

THE GIANT KILLER BEE THAT ALMOST ENDED MY LIFE.

Okay. It wasn’t a KILLER bee.

I know that NOW.

(Preston, honey, killer bees run in swarms, not solo. They are the MS-13 of the Bee-world.)

“Killer Bees” (African Honeybees)
— Migrating across the U.S. border with Mexico.
— Attack in a swarm. No warning. No mercy.
— They sting, keep stinging, and keep coming like Japaneze Kamacazi’s in WWII — Overwhelm their victim.
— Fiercely defend their territory.
— ‘Killer’ rep well-deserved but legend spreads faster than actual #s.

Back to Preston’s story…

Okay. It wasn’t a killer bee.

I know that NOW.

At the time, however, I was fairly certain my life was coming to an abrupt end. GIANT KILLER BEE… 🐝

I was outside changing pools, watering trees, when this absolutely MASSIVE hornet-looking-creature landed directly on my shirt.

*I hear a Confession coming…*

Now, I am terrified of bees.

But I also didn’t want to upset him — he wasn’t being aggressive — he was just hanging out… on me!

Like we had 💕plans together. 😍 (🍹🍺☕🍸)

So… very gently… I blew a soft breath on him a couple times. ️

“Shoo, sir!”
“Please leave.”
I thought he flew away.
Crisis over.

I went back to dragging the hose across the yard when one, super-tiny-itty-bitty thought entered my brain… 💭

“What if I didn’t blow him away? What if I blew him into my armpit?”
Because apparently, my brain enjoys creating scenarios where I die.

Then I started thinking… (Oh no.)

What if he’s IN my armpit right now? (I’m certain it’s not, Preston).

What if I put my arm down?
What if I squish him?
What if he becomes enraged and stings me 47 times?

I didn’t feel anything, so I carried on.

I get to the next yard. The dogs are bouncing around, having a wonderful time. I’m filling the pool. Everyone is happy.

Then I look over.

HE’S ON MY SHOULDER.
AND HE’S CRAWLING TOWARD MY NECK.

Absolutely not!

I FREEZE.

Then I start screaming.

I grab my phone and start calling my team because CLEARLY this is now an EMERGENCY SITUATION! One that requires professional aid.

Dawn = No answer.
Someone! (Ring!)
Anyone! = No answer.

ANSWER YOUR PHONE!
SOMEONE! ANYONE!
ANSWER YOUR PHONE!

Meanwhile, I’m yelling HELP! And APPARENTLY nobody on this ENTIRE PROPERTY can hear the grown man being murdered by an insect.

My only weapon?
The garden hose.

So now I’m spraying water into the air, trying to blast this creature off of me without making him angry.

Which is quite the delicate operation.

“GET! OFF! ME!”

But also… at the same time…

“PLEASE DON’T BE MAD.”

Water is flying everywhere.
I’m soaked.
My phone is soaked.
The yard is soaked.

The dogs are watching this. I KNOW what they are THINKING!
“BEST enrichment activity we’ve had ALL week!”

Finally…

HE’S GONE. That KILLER BEE is gone.

Thank God.
I survived.

Then… POKE.
Something touches my back.

HE’S BACK.
He’s BACK!!!
On MY BACK!

Round two begins…

I’m screaming.
I’m spinning.
I’m spraying the hose over my shoulder.

At this point I’m basically waterboarding myself trying to remove an ENORMOUS flying DEMON from my body.

Finally. I see him land. ON THE GROUND.
On the ground… Preston survived.

Naturally, once the immediate threat of death had passed, I took approximately 47 pictures of my attempted murderer so I could identify him.

Turns out…

It was a wood wasp.
A female wood wasp.

And that terrifying giant “stinger” hanging off her back end?
Not a stinger.

It’s an ovipositor that she uses to lay eggs in wood.
She apparently had absolutely no intention of hurting me.

She was harmless.

Meanwhile, I had sent an S.O.S! to half the staff, soaked myself, soaked my phone, screamed across ten acres, and nearly drowned myself with a garden hose.

So…

Crisis #1: completely imaginary.

Moving on… TO…

THE CASE OF THE PHANTOM POOPER.

As many of you know, I am not exactly known as a cat person.
However, Miss Shady is the exception.

She’s one of our campers who stays with me in the house in her own special area whenever she visits our Camp. Before her mom was to collect her this weekend, I cleaned her litter box.

Obviously, I do clean it every day, but before pickup I make sure everything is nice and clean, and most of all, presentable.

Shady leaves. Her sister leaves.
Everyone goes home.
There are officially…
ZERO CATS IN MY HOUSE.

Today I walk into the office, glance at the litter box I hadn’t yet dismantled.

There’s poop in it!
Cat poop.

Not questionable poop.
Not maybe one of the dogs, poop.

CAT. POOP.
I DON’T HAVE A CAT.

So, I go looking to find Dawn.

“Dawn…”
She looks at me.

“Do you think it’s possible that a feral cat came into my house, walked past all my dogs, found the litter box, took a dump and left?”

Because those are apparently, the possibilities we’re working with.

Somewhere there may be a feral cat who wandered into a house full of dogs and throwing down the welcome mat…
every single one of them apparently were just like…

“Oh hey. Bathroom? Just down the hall there.”

I have no explanation.
No suspects.
No witnesses.

Just poop. CAT POOP.
So for now, we officially have…

THE PHANTOM POOPER OF 4PAWS CAMP.

And that concludes another episode of…
1000 Ways Preston Almost Dies & Other Unsolved Mysteries

4Paws Camp. 🐾🏕️🐾

Stay tuned.

Apparently, ANYTHING can and often DOES happen here.
RIGHT HERE.
Casper, Wyoming: Here.
THAT here. 🐈‍⬛

Disclaimer: Preston Pilant is my nephew. With his permission I publish his crazy posts.