When I was perhaps three, possibly four years old, I decided that miller moths were called “blumblumlies,” and moths of that ilk have been referred to as such in the family argot ever since. Tuesday night, I left my porch light on so I could see to get my key in the door when I came home from knitting group. Porch lights are notorious for attracting moths of any stripe (or spot), and no matter how you time it, you never seem to be able to get in the door without some uninvited “guests” following you inside.
I haven’t noticed so many “blumblumlie” moths of late, but we seem to have an over abundance of some specie of little dull greenish-brown leaf hopper. They torment the black kitty. They flit about and he alerts on them and obviously WANTS to pounce on them, but they are way too fast and too small for him to keep up with. I have become more or less braced for the resounding crash that indicates that he has finally gone ballistic and taken out a table lamp in pursuit of one. The lamps are cast iron, so no worries there, but I just hope he doesn’t knock the side table over and take out my knitting bowl. I went out to put some trash in the dumpster just now, and I’ll bet sixteen of the little buggers got in.
The poor black kitty is just about beside himself. He wants one sooooo baaaad! If he ever does decide he’s got a clear shot at one and manages to achieve lift off, at 15 lbs, he’ll have some kind of inertia going on, and when the Gravity Police catch him with it, they are not going to let him off easy. (That’s not him above, but it would be just like him.)