It Started With the Attack of the Lady Bug.

It all started with the sneak attack of a Lady Bug. I call it a  sneak attack  because I did not initially realize I was under attack until sometime between the opossum glaring at me from atop the privacy fence, and the grackle swooping to me to buzz my ear as I ducked inside the hospital. I guess the  squirrel chittering angrily from a low hanging tree branch just over my left shoulder could have provided the diversion the Lady Bug required to secretly attach herself to me without my knowledge. But personally, I think she launched herself at me while I dealt with the hissing stray cat--I'm not sure if he's feral or just a meanie with cattitude.  Ultimately, it doesn't matter--the fact is, the Lady Bug didn't make her presence known, or at least I was unaware of her presence, until I drove through early morning detour traffic--that's when I felt her crawling on my wrist. 

No freakin' out for me. Especially not while driving.  I deftly caught her and held her in my loosely closed hand. Driving one-handed through town, I searched for a safe place to release her. I checked the clock. As usual, I was running late.  I really didn't have time for a rescue mission. She's got wings--I'll just toss her out the window, and she can fly to safety. I rationalized.  

But from the time I saw a cartoon where an injured insect was tossed to and fro, after it got caught in the air drafts caused by rush hour traffic, I worry about air drafts knocking winged things to their premature death. 

I considered releasing Lady Bug at the stoplight, but we weren't stopped long enough--besides, the middle of four lanes is dangerous and I couldn't ensure her safety. I checked the clock again. Surely I could find a safe release place between the stoplight and work. 

As an afterthought, I realized the car wash with picnic tables was just a block away, and it met my requirements:  It was on my way to work, the picnic tables, sitting beneath shade trees, were protected--it would be a safe place for Lady Bug. 

Swerving single-handedly I changed lanes, and slamming on the brakes so I could make the turn, I left a wake of horn-honking drivers behind me.  I found the perfect place--a shade tree, with a low hanging branch that I could easily reach without even getting out of the SUV. I powered the window down, and opened my hand to release.....nothing. Lady Bug had flown the coop.  She was still in the SUV. But where?  I checked the clock. I didn't have time to waste looking for her. 

I drove to work and parked the SUV as I considered The Lady Bug Dilemma.  I did not know where Lady Bug got off to--other than being trapped inside my SUV.  Because I have a soft heart (I didn't want her to die a slow baking death in a Texas-hot vehicle).  I also have an even softer head (it was an overcast and cool day, with a high probability of rain, so she would likely be okay), but I decided to leave the window cracked anyway--so she would have an escape route in case the weather forecasters were wrong and the sun cane out and attempted to fry everything.  

However, I do have an ounce of  self-preservation.  I couldn't risk leaving the moon roof open--I might come back to an aquarium on wheels.  The passenger seat is always occupied--this week with audio books--and I'm pretty sure the Public Library would not like wet discs. Bandit is pretty persnickety, and it's a safe bet to say he would not appreciate a wet cushion on his box.  Besides, I haven't washed his cushion in quite a while, so I'm pretty sure if the cushion gets wet, it would smell like wet dog until I could wash and dry it at the laundry.  You wouldn't think a hairless dog would produce a dog smell-but you'd be wrong. Bandit's window remained up as well. There was no way I was leaving my window down--if I did, I'm thinking it would mean I would likely have to endure riding home in puddle-sitting discomfort.  

So, I did the only thing I could do--I chose the only option left...I cracked the remaining window for Lady Bug. I hope she finds her way out, and the rain holds off until I ensure she has been set free.  

Otherwise, as retaliation tonight, my recue cat Moggy will probably  move--from sleeping curled up on my chest  with his head tucked under my chin--to languidly stretching out his legs so he can cover my nose and smother me with his paws while I sleep. 

When the grackle buzzed me, I wondered if I awakened  in a campy Chevy Chase comedy. Something like:   National Lampoon's Attack of the Killer Wildlife! 

And it all started innocently enough with the attack of the Lady Bug.