I rescued my Italian Greyhound W, a fine example of trailer-park breeding, from a life of bloody flea bites and rope burns a little over eight years ago. Hard to believe he's been with me that long, surviving a broken leg and thyroid disease since coming to my supposedly safe haven. W has nasty eating habits--think backyard as restaurant. Well, I just discovered several weeks ago that he has added another delicacy to his menu: dog day cicadas. We are overrun with them just now (can you hear that racket?), which makes my doggy VERY happy. Around 9pm, he begins to jump and squeak and otherwise try to alert us to let him out for his yummy, crunchy dessert. Then he proceeds to harvest bug after bug, many of which are larger than his dainty paws. Here's a photo of the prized treat:
And another delight that should vibrate with you mothers out there. My 2yo constantly brings me teeny tiny things off of the floor. Some are microscopic, and I just pretend that I have received them and then pretend to throw them away. Some are fairly innocuous, like lint or hairballs. Some are bits of paper or plastic shreds from grocery sacks. Thanks for helping us keep the house so clean, kid. Occasionally a booger will get passed off, but hey I'm innured to that at this point. Unless it's wet. Today, however, a new corner has been turned in this little game of clean up, and the latest pass off nearly made me faint. N handed me a crusty bit of what I thought might have been from his nose. Except he said "booboo." I asked him to elucidate. He pointed to his mosquito bites, which were oozing, and I realized I was holding the former cover of one of those pitiful volcanos. I'm sorry I had to tell you that story.
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