Perched on the throne, I said, “oh, GOD, more ants!”
The dog went over to investigate, huffing out breath to get a better scent.
I suddenly heard, in a very high voice, “What th’ f😳ck?!!”
Ant: How the hell did I wind up here??
Dog: where you go
Me: Stop blowing the damn insects around. I need to clean them up.
It’s been a tough summer with insane heat and we’re finding even though we have a service, ants are breaching the perimeters. I hate the little bastards.
They first got into granny’s apartment downstairs, then, finding no welcome, headed directly upstairs to our bathroom.
We’d been mopping them up for days before the dog actually noticed. The cat doesn’t come upstairs any longer due to her abject loathing of the dog.
I think even worse than the cat going “hoick hoick hoick” in the night is finding the cat staring, fascinated, at a patch of carpet. All of a sudden you realize why.
But thankfully, they’ve stayed in the bathroom, looking for whatever they’re trying to find. It can’t be water, granny sploshes enough around each evening they’d have more than enough. Our garden has never looked so good.
At least, they stay on the floor until the dog starts huffing the little buggers across the floor, then getting confused about what happened.
Dog: where it go
Me: okay, you know how you huff air at things you wanna smell?
Dog: maybe
Me: you furry little hurricane, you sent the ant across the room.
I finished what I was doing, then taking a tissue to the still cursing ant, smushed it and tossed it, flattened bug and all, into the bin.
Dog, confused: wait the smell just changed why the smell change
Me, surprised: you can smell that?
Dog: Why you no smell that now it smell like… like…
Cat, from downstairs: death?
Dog: how… you… know… that…
Me: ants give off a pheromone when they die so the other ants know to take the corpse to where they throw their waste. Nifty, huh? But I’m amazed you can smell the diff.
Dog: you ate some of other mommy’s chocolate the day before yesterday I can smell that too
Me, scowling: there’s some things we don’t need to mention, aren’t there.
Dog: wait… it smelled dead… why it dead
Cat: Because, ding dong, she annihilated it.
Dog: what’s anna-hole-id
Cat: she killed it. Kaput. Splat. GONE.
Dog, staring: whut
Cat: oh, come on, she’s been mopping up ants for days.
Dog: mopping up what mopping up
Cat, rolling her eyes: seriously. She’s getting rid of hordes of ants. Straight down the sink. There’s a killing field down there, piles of bodies, Pol Pot was never so good.
Me, though clenched teeth: Not necessary to mention that…
Dog, horrified: MOMMY’S A MASS MURDERER??!!
My turn to smack my hand against my head.
Me: I’m… killing… ants. They’re pests.
Dog, still hysterical: you call MaeMae a pest you gonna kill her
Me, muttering: don’t tempt me…
Examining Misadventures 