He Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly

Poor Loki stood outside the bedroom, hiding behind the door and refusing to go to bed. I invited him in, coddled and scratched his favorite places, but he only stood there, afraid. Something was wrong but for the life of me, I couldn’t see the problem. So I brushed my teeth and ignored the situation, confident that he’d get over it, as he always does, and go to bed.

When I came back into the room, he stood there, only half way in. He looked up at the bed and then the wall indicating his stress. I followed his gaze, but didn’t see anything so I coddled him some more. “Something’s wrong,” I told Mr. Wild Dingo.

And that’s when I heard a faint buzzing. So faint, only bionic ears could detect it.

I turned up all the lights to search for the monster who tormented my hero in his sanctuary. We could barely hear the intruder and we certainly couldn’t see him.

After a few minutes of searching, a wee fly, already with one wing in the grave, fell from above into a flat spin, tumbled on top of our bed, then hit the ground. Mr. Wild Dingo mercifully sped it along to its final destination. And the faint buzzing was no more.

I called Loki over to identify the remains of his tormentor.

“See? I got your back Big Boy,” I told him.   He sniffed but remained unconvinced for a few minutes.

“Poor buddy!  Your bionic ears are a blessing and a curse,” I added.

With that, he was satisfied that the buzzing was gone for good and decisively retired to bed.

Our hero. So gentle, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.