It seems that I am a dog who should take my own advice.  What did I say at the end of my last blog?  Something about watching out for the bees?

After being stung on Friday, I finally started to feel better by Monday.  I was cheerful, and my appetite was back.  I was greeting neighbors and being my normal bouncy self.  Then two steps from the front door I did it again;  I stepped on a bee.

This time Mom didn’t hesitate,  and she rushed me to the vet.  They didn’t seem as worried as she was about me.  They checked my paw for stingers.  (That hurt like heck).  The checked me for a fever.  (Despite what the vet said about “bigger things that ‘this’ coming out of ‘there’ all the time” I did not care for it…therefore it hurt like heck.)  Then they gave me the nastiest shot I’ve ever had in my life.  (That hurt like heck.)  My poor paw swelled like an elephant’s foot, and I couldn’t stop panting and pacing.  When we got home, I had to take the worst tasting antibiotic invented by man.  It was definitely not my day.

To make things worse Toby was feeling neglected, so he got all the attention once I was settled in at home.  He got to go out in the yard and play Frisbee with Mom (the bees were asleep by then), and I had to sit in the house with a nasty aftertaste in my mouth while my paw throbbed.

I would warn you to be careful about the bees again, but I can see it won’t help.  After watching the movie Swarm,  it seems that once bees are riled up there is no stopping them.  Just try to make sure that when you’re stung you don’t fall on the train throttle or the self destruct button on the nuclear power plant.  The earth’s survivors will thank you.