4th Sept – You are the apple of my eye, forever you’ll stay in my heart.

My pet wasp died yesterday. He didn’t have a name, and we didn’t cuddle up together, but he was no less a pet for all that.

We met about 2 months ago or so. I gave him some pieces of apple, and he adored it. It took him a few days to work his way through it all, but from that moment on that became the ration I gave him. I’d cut a quarter of an apple into small segments, and he’d eat them down to just a shrivelled bit of skin over the course of three or four days. He came every day from our first meeting, from before I was up, until after I’d locked up. At the height of summer, he’d bring some friends, and on some days, there’d be four or five of them working on the apples together, but there was never a day when he didn’t come, and for the most part, it was just him alone who came calling. Was there work in it for him, or was it just endless days of pure pleasure? I never knew, but in my mind, there was an element of duty in it, as if he took the processed food back to his nest to feed others.

If I anticipated the current stock coming to an end while he was still working away on it, and went out with a new batch of apple segments slightly ahead of time, he’d get up from his feast/work, and buzz around me. I’d always say sorry for disturbing him, that I didn’t mean to scare him, but after a while, I came to see that action as him recognising a familiar face —that of the person who brought him his food. And his buzzing around was him saying hello and acknowledging the new delivery.

Sometimes, I left it too late, and he’d come in to find me, to tell me he needed new supplies. And I’d always respond immediately, re-stock the table, and clear away what remained of the old .

He came in to see me yesterday. I apologised, and cut up a new apple for him. I went out then, and when I returned, the apple segments hadn’t been touched, and he was nowhere to be seen. I put it down to a drop in temperatures and imminent rain; maybe even a seasonal change in behaviour, and thought no more of it.

Then, a few hours later, I found him, on the floor. Close to the place where I’d seen him that morning, when I thought he was asking for a top-up. I know now, he wasn’t. He’d come to say thanks, and goodbye.

I left the apple segments out, in case I’m mistaken, but they’re still there, this morning, untouched. And he lies close by, under the little tree I’ve grown from the germinating seed I found in one of his apples.