It probably falls into the “you had to be there” category, but here goes anyway.

The other night, there was an annoying little moth fluttering about the living room while I was watching TV.  It alternated between crawling on the television screen and circling the lamp on the coffee table.  Bandit the wonder dog watched it with extreme interest.  It eventually found its way into territory close to me.  Somehow, I managed to swat it out  of the air, but didn’t see where it fell.  A few minutes later, Bandit found the wounded critter on the floor.  He watched it curiously for a few minutes from a few feet away and then moved closer.  Doing what dogs do during an investigation, he sniffed at it two or three times, at a nose to nose distance.  On the “out” sniffs, the moth was actually blown away a couple of inches.

I don’t know if a moth has much sense of self preservation, but this one seemed to know it was in trouble and tried for a getaway.  Flight seemed impossible because of its injuries, but it crawled as fast as it could.  Bandit slapped  his paws at the moth several times, but missed every time.  By now, they were two or three feet from the crash landing site.

Still doing what dogs do, Bandit decided it obviously needed to be tasted to make the final determination.  The moth managed to avoid the dog’s long tongue for a while, but eventually was captured.  And spit out.  And re-captured.  And re-spit out.  And re-captured again.

Now Bandit started gagging, making those horrible “I’m gonna puke” noises.  He was rolling his tongue around the roof of his mouth- you know - like when you get peanut butter somehow stuck up there.   To my relief (the puke thing, you understand) the moth was finally coughed out.

The sniff, sniff thing started all over again.  And the taste test. And the gagging thing.  And the cough it up thing.

Somehow the moth managed a short flight and clung onto the side of Bandit’s nose, just above the corner of his mouth.  Bandit tried to snag it with his tongue, but the moth moved up higher, until it reached a safe spot on the dog’s nose, between his eyes.

Bandit shook his head to get it off.  The moth hung on desperately.   More head shaking.  More clinging.  Bandit tried to get it off with his paws, but couldn’t reach the right spot.

A new plan was necessary. Bandit tried to get rid of the moth by wiping his face on the floor.  No success.  Wipe on the couch.  Still no luck.  The moth was safe and sound, hiding in plain sight.

Accepting defeat, Bandit sighed, and laid down beside the couch.  The moth was still on his nose.

“What’s wrong, Buddy?” I laughed.

The dog looked up at me, ashamed.  It was obvious what he was saying.

“There’s a f*#*ing bug on my nose - what do you think is wrong?”

I picked the moth off Bandit’s nose, and decided that after its valiant struggle, this moth deserved a better fate than the toilet, and released it outside.