Yesterday evening around 8:30 PM, after deciding I was too worn out to last any longer, I decided it was time to go to bed.

So I stepped outside to retrieve the cat food on the patio.  The sun already had fallen below the horizon and dark had settled over the world.

I picked up the dish, came back inside, locked the door, walked slowly to the kitchen (for slowly is the only way I can walk at the moment), set the bowl down on the counter and immediately realized it was full of ants.

Dozens of them.  Swarming all over the cat food and the bowl, both inside and out.

Dealing with that situation is not the point.

Holding that bowl in my hand for almost a minute without a single ant climbing on me is the point.

Only one sting would have sent me to the hospital, for my allergy to ants and wasps is critically acute (and slightly less so to bees).  With dozens of ants all over the bowl, imagine what might have happened if several of them decided to attack.

Yet amazingly not one of them chose to do that.  They all stayed in and on the bowl, milling about in panic and trying to decide on the best course of action.

As soon as I put the bowl on the counter, they swarmed out of the dish like a flood.

I dealt with that and ensured none remained inside.  I dealt with the contaminated food.  I cleaned the bowl.

Then I stood there pondering how damn lucky I had been to have 30-40 ants in my hand without any of them deciding I was worth a sting…or several.

And today?  Well, let’s just say the bowl now rests on a tiny carpet of Sevin dust.  With rain in the forecast and no guarantee it would stick, I can’t yet put up that barrier around the whole patio, but I sure can make sure there’s no way to get in or on the bowl without wading through that deadly defense mechanism.

I’d rather not try my luck again.