No, I’m not talking about the ‘champagne of bottled beer‘ or Beer Thirty…I’m talking about the invasion of Miller Moths otherwise known as army cutworms.
After a wet and cold May, these little flying bastards moths have hit the Front Range like a stealthy Kamikaze air battalion. Usually they congregate by an entrance, ready to swoop in all Ninja-like but so far I hadn’t noticed them so much. They don’t bite, don’t carry disease or eat clothing but man…they are n.a.s.t.y. and g.r.o.s.s.
Sam can get twitter-patted about the strangest things. Like he’ll be casually walking across the living room as if he were going to get a drink of water or a few bites of kibbles and then suddenly coming across one of his elk antler pieces and then…BAM! First comes the crashing pounce and then a haphazard toss of an antler being flung across the room. Like most moms, I’ll confess to ignoring that kind of white noise the ‘fur-kid’ makes. I just presume he’s ‘being good’ (more like goofy) until a certain strange noise reaches that “danger center” deep in my brain and then I fly to the scene of the crime like Superman or when that dead quiet lack of sound suddenly triggers the mom radar. Since Sam frequently entertains himself with antler tossing and then pounces on them for a good old-fashioned “dog flossing” I really didn’t pay close attention to him until I saw something small and darkish flit past him and head straight over to a nearby lamp. Moths are naturally drawn to light and drapes I’m afraid, constantly leaving funky brown splotches of that dusty gunk that covers their bodies like flour covering a miller’s apron-hence the nickname. As soon as I looked up and investigated closer, it hit me, no, I mean it literally hit me, right square on my forehead.
Ok, picture this for your entertainment since I can’t seem to easily find an non-copyrighted image. My arms are flailing about like a mad person as if I just walked into a gigantic spider web, all the while trying like crazy to keep that nasty bastard from getting between my glasses and touching my skin. Now hear the dialogue of a drunken sailor being spewed by yours truly upon realizing I’m being bombarded by one of those notorious villains. I HATE those dang beasts and because I’m dealing with a rather dimwit of a dog, got worried that they might be toxic should he actually catch one and try to nosh on it (a photo of him tasting a bug could be priceless with his eyes all wide, the tongue extended and his lips smacking with a certain WTH was that foul, nasty tasting thing look on his face but I digress). Googling the topic, I was grateful to learn they are not, though I’m still going with the presumption they aren’t good for Señor Doofas and gave the “leave it” command.
If you read about my level of success with certain commands recently then you’ll appreciate the reaction I got from Sam. He just looked at me, gave me that double blink (proving he’s a complete idiot and doesn’t understand English at all) and then he strolled over toward his bed, circled around and then flopped down and gave out the biggest unhappy sigh I’ve heard in a long while. While I was sort of pleased at the success for him actually leaving it, I felt like I was some kind of ogre judging by that not-pleased look he gave me. Not the reaction I had hoped for but I’ll take it. Who am I kidding? I was crestfallen he was miffed and called Sam over for a friendly “let’s make up and be BFF’s again” ear scratch. Thankfully that dog cannot hold a grudge and happily pounced up on top of my lap for the promised affection. Well, at least he wasn’t pouting anymore. I just need to figure out how to turn on that button that distinguishes commands like ‘come here’ with ‘jump up and pounce on me.’ Sigh. Baby steps, grasshopper, baby steps. 🙂
Live, live, bark! <3