Colonizing movement

My philosophy is to always listen to what my animals have to say. They are always talking, but it's hard to hear to them. If you pay very close attention though, they will tell you many things you need to know.

Around 1999 or so, Matthew and I lived in a garden apartment. In Chicago, this is a euphemism for "basement." Our apartment really was more garden-y than basement-y, but it still had basement features. Like being an appealing destination for insects. We got a steady stream of mind-bogglingly determined tiny red ants. Our cat, the amazing Loki, was the first to know.

"What is the cat looking at?"

"Nothing. He's weird," said Matthew.

"I don't think so. Look at him. He's really into something."

Cats often have that look of intense concentration when they stare at what looks like nothing, but this was a full-on feline mind meld. His entire body poised into looking at one laser sharp object, whiskers forward and ears aimed front. Something was definitely happening.

I walked over to check out the scene; "Oh my God! There's ants! A ton of 'em!" Loki found the entry point. Through careful caulking, we were able to stop the stream of ants from coming once Loki showed us where to look.

Tonight, coincidentally, we had another ant related incident. I walked past the couch after trying to look for my white guitar pick (it's my favorite), and the dog looked intensely interested in something. You've probably seen pictures of my dog. She looks like a limp dishrag lying on the couch most of the time. She's a couch zombie. She only wakes up long enough to take your spot if you get up. But walking past the couch, I could see the same laser guided focus, ears forward, eyebrows up, feet aimed front. Everything about her body language said that she was watching something.

I leaned over to see what she had gotten into, and a great big black ant walked out from under her paw. She mouthed at it a little and tried to paw it again, but it's like the story of the lion and the mouse. The lion is too big to remove the tiny thorn from his paw so the delicate mouse has to do the close-up work. Blanche is too big to make a move on an ant. The ant just walked in between her giant furry paw pads and kept on going. I could even see a couple of mouth marks on the couch where Blanche had tried to bite the ant, but it just walked right through her great big teeth.

Poor Blanche. I scooped up her quarry in a half-used tissue and flushed it down the toilet. Blanche didn't notice at first, she kept looking for the ant, just like Loki used to go back and look at the place where the ants came in through the window sill. I think Blanche is probably asleep again, and Loki moved on years ago. He has a multi-color feather dancer for entertainment now, but I bet he still dreams of eating those ants.