OMG OMG OMG EW EW EWWWW!!!

Earlier tonight, the cat was acting way too interested in the hall closet. I could tell that he definitely believed that there was a bug in there somewhere. The door was open, and he was trying to look around in the crates and baskets of assorted bath and body products. Every once in awhile, he would cry pitifully and I'd go over and move a basket out of the way for him. I poked around a little, but I didn't see anything, so I figured he'd spotted a house spider or something. We have a pretty healthy resident population of teeny tiny spiders, and I usually let them go about their business. I figure they'll eat any peskier bugs that come along, plus they're supposed to be good luck...or at least it's bad luck to kill them. Anyway, the cat sat and stared and sniffed around and occasionally meowed pitifully for a good 15-20 minutes, and then stopped. I figured he'd wandered off, but when I went to close the closet door, I noticed him sitting in the living room floor with a very satisfied look on his face. I went closer, and that's when I noticed the dismembered cave cricket on the floor near his paws.


Now, as you can tell from just about any post on this blog, I'm pretty kumbaya, yay-nature most of the time. There are, however, a few things in the natural world that squick me the hell out. Ticks, for example. Or walking through spiderwebs. But the #1 most squickalicious, most disgusting thing out there, to me, is the cave cricket. First of all, they're just nasty looking. I couldn't even post a picture of one in this entry, because looking at it on the page that I linked was making me gag a little. I'm not much of a gagger, so this is some pretty serious cricket hateration. Secondly, I hate the way they hop around all erratically. You never know where they're going to land next. *shudder* Third, I have a long-standing grudge against them from the years I spent in my bedroom in my parents' basement, where cave crickets were distressingly regular interlopers into my late-night peaceful reading time. Nothing to give you an all-night case of the creepy-crawlies like looking up from your book to see a giant, disgusting cave cricket skoinking across the quilt toward you as you sit innocently in bed minding your own business. Or laying your head down on your desk to rest your eyes for a moment, only to have one drop from the sky and land six inches in front of your face. GAH. My hair is standing on end just from thinking about this.

So, it is with only a smidgen of guilt that I report the following:  upon discovery of the cat's actions, I thanked him. Out loud. And then I gave him some treats. I'm sort of embarrassed about it. I mean, it's not exactly cool to revel in the death of any creature. But THANK GOODNESS he was the one investigating the closet instead of, say, me while innocently in search of a Lush bath bomb or something. If anyone would be willing to come over and dispose of the remains, I'd be grateful. Right now I'm pretending they don't exist and very carefully NOT LOOKING over there.



Happy Birthday to my dad

Later today, my dad is going to hike up the as-yet-unfinished Crazy Horse Memorial near Mount Rushmore. He's been wanting to do it for years. I hope the popularity of the event doesn't disappoint him. I don't think it will. From South Dakota, he'll be heading to Colorado for two weeks of hiking / backpacking and camping. I hope the trip is everything he hopes for and more. Happy Birthday, Dad!