hates detests the fly swatter.
All I need to do is bring it out of hiding, and she cowers.
The other day we acquired quite a flock of stowaway flies trying to hitchhike to a warmer climate. I grabbed the fly swatter and began to do battle with the little vermin. Knowing Gypsy's aversion to the tool, I worked as gently as I could, without taking wild swings are slamming the thing around. Yet, even so, I turned around to discover Gypsy sitting perfectly still in the corner of the sofa on the motorhome. She looked pitiful as she sat with her head hanging over the edge of the sliding section of the sofa. It was almost as if she was willing herself into that small, dark hole.
Two days and some 800 miles later I got the last one, luring him with a swipe of honey.