Of men and dogs … | Columnists | Summerville Journal Scene

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Of men and dogs …

Published Thursday, September 04, 2008 1:07 PM

By Ellen Priest
Summerville Journal Scene ®

As I emerged from the house, my husband came running around the house and the only word I could understand was, “Bees.”

That was an understatement, as he had not one or two bees, but a multitude of yellow jackets covering his legs and shorts.

For those of you who don’t know, one of the differences between bees and yellow jackets, besides the fact that bees are fuzzy, and yellow jackets are not, is that yellow jackets are much more aggressive.

Add to that the fact that they don’t lose their stingers and die when they sting, they just continue to sting over and over again.

And true to their reputation, they were stinging over and over and over.

I tried swatting them off him but quickly found they were not to be deterred.

So, I said, get your shorts off now.

My man didn’t even hesitate.

He stripped down to his birthday suit in the backyard as fast as you can say naked.

Then he ran in the house.

I stayed outside, laid the shorts on the ground and stomped on those darn yellow jackets.

Right behind that, I ran in the house and headed straight for the Benadryl.

I barked an order at him to take it quick while I went looking for Harry and I’d be right back.

You see, Saturday night started out quiet enough until Harry went missing again, prompting my husband to look for him and get into a yellow jackets nest.

Despite our best efforts at reinforcing the yard, Harry the Goober dog still manages to live up to his escape artist title, one he’s worked hard to earn.

Returning to the house without Harry a few minutes later, I found my guy’s car gone and knew, stubborn guy that he was, that he was off looking for Harry.

So, we both drove around looking for Harry. Every so often we’d pass each other, roll down the window and I’d ask how he was feeling and off we’d go again.

My phone rang and a neighbor said she had Harry and would meet me at the house.

While waiting, I called my guy to let him know he could come home and tend his wounds.

He didn’t answer. Was he having a reaction and dying on the side of the road? I didn’t know whether to wait for my naughty dog to return or go looking for my husband.

Finally I got a call from my husband, who promptly got yelled at for worrying me. His phone had been on silent. Why, I don’t know.

Harry was brought home and my husband arrived right behind him.

Now to tend to the wounded.

He had approximately 12-15 stings, which were now swollen. Then he turned red from head to toe and got hot to the touch.

Then he broke out in hives.

I begged him to let me take him to the hospital but he wouldn’t.

I went through the procedure in my mind for performing a tracheotomy, in case my skills (or lack of) were needed.

Luckily, they weren’t. The swelling finally subsided.

For days afterwards, he broke out in hives off and on. Terrible, huge hives.

A man who hasn’t been to a doctor in years was forced to go twice in one day. He got a steroid shot and a prescription for an epinephrine shot, which they have said may now be necessary because should he get stung again, he may have a life threatening reaction.

I called the pest control company to take care of the hidden yard hives, rather than have him take care of them, like he wanted to.

These stubborn dogs and men will be the death of me yet.

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