The wind was picking up.
"I'm going to take Ray out to pee before the storm hits," I said to Gregg as I got up off of the couch. "C'mon, Ray, let's go," I called to my dog.
Ray stretched and climbed down off of the couch where he had been cozily curled. Gregg got out of his chair to join us in our before-bed perambulation around the back yard.
I grabbed the flashlight as I passed through the kitchen, then opened the backdoor, and followed by Ray and Gregg exited onto the patio. I felt a huge thing shoot past my head and through the open door into the house behind me.
"It's in the house! It's in the house!" I yelled.
"What's in the house? What's in the house?" yelled Gregg turning to look back over his shoulder into the kitchen
"I don't know! I think it's a bug!" (I was still yelling.)
Gregg turned and went back into the kitchen closing the door behind him. Against my better judgement, I followed.
A giant cicada was zooming crazily around the kitchen, popping and fizzing noisily against the ceiling.
I walked into the middle of the kitchen just as it did a Red Baron dive-bomb. I screamed and scuttled into the hall adjacent. Gregg was still in the kitchen watching the random flight path of the big bug.
"I don't know how we're going to catch it," he said swatting at it ineffectually. "Maybe we should just leave it for Hugo."
"Let me try turning down the lights," I said as I hit the light switch from the safety of the next room.
As soon as the lights dimmed, the popping and fizzing stopped.
"Where did it go?" asked Gregg.
I turned the flashlight on and swept the beam across the kitchen.
"There it is." I said, pointing the light at the bug.
It was flopped on its back in the middle of the kitchen counter. (Did it faint?)
Gregg took a kerchief from one of his pockets and with a magician's flourish, threw it over the cicada and whisked it away. I watched as he carried it outside and let it loose. The ungrateful bug dove at Gregg and then resumed its crazy flight path back towards the kitchen.
"Close the door!" yelled Gregg.
I slammed the door shut and turned off the back porch light. The bug disappeared.
Laughing, and once again followed by Gregg, I went to look for Ray. He was standing in the dark about ten feet from the door, facing the kitchen, immobile, his head down around his knees. I knew that if I could see them, his eyebrows would be doing a dance of uncertainty. He'd heard the commotion and didn't know what to do, so he had waited for instructions.
"It's OK, Ray," I said, "You can go pee."
Ray waited for me to get closer to make sure I wasn't going to abandon him in the dark again. He wandered to the far side of the yard, peed, then returned to the house, and to bed.
Friday, July 20, 2012
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Funny how they wait for instructions on the one hand yet .... Twiggy barks & yelps & strains at her leash when we're out walking no matter what I do to bring her in-to-line. Yet if I let her out in the yard & forget I've done so (another story) she's as quiet as a mouse & merely sits outside the door until I remember (aka NiK asks why we're down 1 furry creature) which could be upto an HOUR later!ReplyDelete
Oh, I can explain that one. It's a dog ploy (as opposed to a dog toy). Totally done on purpose to get treats and/or attention. They know you feel bad for forgetting and they use it. Twiggy is playing you.Delete
more worrying when he loses Conor....as a) he is noticeable, so why haven't you sussed he is missing, and b)he is blind and liable to get into some sort of bother....thankfully it does not happen on a regular basis.ReplyDelete
As a person who has just recently forgot the blind dog in the FRONT yard when he was not on a tether, I sympathize.Delete