Since moving to this part of Texas, I have discovered a new breed of flies. Just think of a regular housefly on steroids. I was kind of hoping the cold had killed them all off, but alas, no -- one magically appeared in my bathroom this morning.
Like most people (or at least most people I know), I don't have a flyswatter. So what does a girl do when she needs a flyswatter and there's not one to be found? She grabs the nearest article of clothing from the top of the hamper. In my case, a pair of shorts. After too many swings and misses, the fly finally hit the ground.
As it was lying dead (I thought) on its back, I went to find something to pick it up with. That's when Maya decided to investigate. I assume she thought it might be a good toy. She sniffed it, maybe licked it, definitely pawed at it. I walked in just in time to see her flip it back onto its legs with her paw, at which point it flew away again.
I eventually managed to hit it again with the shorts and get it in the trash, but somebody should teach Maya that CPR should be saved for animals that fall into the cute-and-cuddly categories, which most definitely does not include bugs.
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