“The Fly Who Came In From The Cold” by John Nicole
Just before Thanksgiving of 2009, I looked out of my window and saw a
bright blue sky. I opened my back door and eagerly let in the fresh air
of this very beautiful day. There was a slight chill in the air, but not
enough to justify wearing a sweater. Maybe a long-sleeve shirt would
suffice, but I didn’t care. It was a refreshing change from the gray skies
of the past month.
So, for several hours, the door stayed open and I went about my business
which was packing a suitcase. I was preparing for my annual pilgrimage
to Florida for some turkey and at least a dozen other side dishes which
would be prepared by my brother whose occupation was gourmet chef
for the county.
By day’s end, I had closed the door, shut the suitcase, and went to bed
early so I would be refreshed for an early-morning flight to my parents’
home. As I usually did upon retiring, I turned off the bedroom light and
turned on the television before falling asleep. I became more and more
sleepy and was just about to turn off the television when I felt something
brush across my face. And then, just at the moment of pushing the button
to turn off the TV, a small something-or-other darted across the screen.
But I was too tired to consider what flew across the final frame of
whatever program I was watching.
I woke up at 4:45am according to plan and as I walked into the kitchen,
there it was on the counter. It was a fly. But I was still a little too tired
and a little too slow to do anything about it. So I went into the bathroom
to take my shower while the coffee brewed. When I eventually returned
to the kitchen, the fly was gone.
While drinking my coffee and eating a slice of toast, the fly returned and
landed on my coffee table. It was just within reach and if I was quick
enough, I might be able to kill it. I didn’t really want fly’s blood on my
hand (literally), so I slowly reached for a magazine, but was too late. I
think the fly sensed imminent danger and flew away before I could deal
the deadly blow.
Just before I left with my suitcase, I opened the door and tried to chase
it outside into the cold air. But the fly wasn’t stupid and probably knew my
place was much warmer and more comfortable than the inhospitable open
air. I gave up and left for the airport. Flies only live a short time, I
thought to myself. I would probably see his lifeless body on the
countertop when I returned from Florida in four days.
While sitting poolside and enjoying the warm weather of Florida, I forgot
all about the winged intruder. Instead, I started thinking – as I always do
during this particular holiday – about dieting as soon as I got home, but
not before. Gluttony is okay during Turkey Day.
I soon flew back home, opened my front door and there it was – ALIVE!
I almost had the crazy notion that it was happy to see me because it was
flying around my head like a maniac. Maybe it got a little stir crazy being
in the house all alone. My cat used to do the same thing when I returned
from a trip, but it couldn't fly.
I was really tired and went to bed almost immediately. Unfortunately, the
fly came with me. I heard it whispering in my ear, but I had no clue about
what it was saying. I thought for sure that this creature would be dead by
the time I got home, but it wasn’t. It was very much alive, and I wondered
how it survived. What did it eat? And, even more importantly, where did
it excrete what it ate?
The next morning I sat in front on my computer with a cup of coffee to
read all of my e-mail messages. After reading about three or four
messages, my little friend planted himself firmly on my computer screen.
Was he reading my mail? Without hesitation, I swatted the screen with
my hand. This guy was fast because it was almost like he could read my
mind. He was gone before I even went into motion. I tried swatting him
at least a dozen times.
Okay, then I did something for which I feel quite foolish. I went to the
kitchen, got a spray can of Lysol and planned my attack. If I couldn’t kill
him in a cloud of disinfectant spray, he would at least be germ-free. I
thought maybe the lethal cloud would slowly kill him by filling his little
lungs – if he had any – with the spray. Unfortunately, he survived the
attack. I tried opening the door several times, but he seemed to really
enjoy being domesticated.
It was now three weeks since I discovered this creature in my home. So
I did some research to learn when he (not it) would die of old age. I had
it all wrong! I learned that the fly lives much longer than I had expected.
The average lifespan of the fly is 25 to 60 days. With proper care and
feeding, they can live to a ripe old age of 80 to 92 days. So much for
hoping he would die of natural causes.
Something strange started happening as we started spending more time
with each other. He started becoming more brazen during his visits. For
example, I’d be clicking away on my keyboard and he would land just
inches away and look up at me. Very curious behavior. My story about
this fly now takes an even more curious turn because I started to have
feelings for him. I definitely couldn’t kill him now and I didn’t want to kill.
Actually, I grew quite fond of him and named him, Buzzy. Yes, it’s true. I
had adopted a new pet. Apparently, Buzzy seemed to know that I meant
him no harm because soon he was landing on my arm to take his daily
bath. Incidentally, a fly washes very much like a cat. Buzzy would use his
front “legs” and wipe his antennae while I watched him.
One day, while on the couch and watching television, Buzzy landed on
the end of my nose and it looked like he was staring up at me. Another
time, I was reclined on my couch with a cordless speakerphone on my
chest. I was telling a friend about the fly’s peculiar behavior when Buzzy
landed on the phone as though he wanted to be part of the conversation.
I’m not making this up. This fly was really weird.
I did some more research and learned that the lowly fly can actually
learn things. What?? Could I possibly teach Buzzy some tricks before
he died of old age? And on a related subject, I was beginning to become
somewhat sad about Buzzy’s short life span. After all, maybe he was
already an old fly when he arrived here.
It’s now been more than a month since my friend started living with me.
My human friends make jokes and suggest I take more showers.
Incidentally, Buzzy actually seems to enjoy the mist created from a hot
shower and he’s always there to greet me when I slide open the shower
curtain.
The other day, I caught him drinking out of the toilet. I even leave him
scraps of food on the kitchen counter. And I still don’t know where he
poops and I probably don’t want to know.
Just this morning, I was at a fast-food restaurant and suddenly several
of Buzzy’s friends joined me. Has the word spread to others that I'm a
fly-friendly human? Even more troublesome is the fact that I’m now
actually speaking to Buzzy. Don’t get too worried because these aren’t
intellectual conversations. I just say hello when he greets me at the front
door and once in a while I say goodnight.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll be graced with Buzzy’s presence. I
never really thought of a fly as a living entity with some degree of
consciousness. I never thought much about the smaller creatures who
share space with us on this planet. In fact, I never think much about all
the microscopic entities which are living on me and inside of me right
now. It’s a strange though, isn’t it? There are microorganisms living
on Buzzy, as well, but he's probably not aware of them.
I never thought, in a million years, that I’d have a fly for a companion. I
can’t put a leash on Buzzy and take him for a walk like you can do with
your dog, but he can do a lot of things your dog can’t do. I can’t really
pet him, but that’s okay. All I can do now is make sure his final days are
happy ones, so I make sure there's always a rotting apple on a plate and
an open toilet from which to drink. And most importantly, I let him land
where he will without trying to swat him away. And maybe someday, after
he has passed out of existence, I’ll figure out exactly where he pooped.
