Dive bombing the screens, the big junebugs sound determined to get inside the window behind me, but I know that, try as they might, they'll be spending the night outside. But every once in while, like last night, one will be lucky enough to fly in while I'm wondering how long I will keep the deck door open as Boo tries to decide whether or not he's brave enough to be an outdoor cat. We'll do this, play this little game, most evenings for weeks before my neurotic kitty will decide it is okay to go outside for maybe 10 minutes each evening in the summertime. "Boo? Are you going to go or are the two of us going to spend the next hour trying to get all these bugs out of the house?" My daughter laughs at me as she hears me screech a little, each time another bug flies inside.
So there was the junebug. He'd flown inside and it was my job to get him back outside where he belonged. It was a simple gesture. One paper towel scoop and one little screech later, he was back in the night air.
One bug, trying desperately to get inside to be near the light. One cat, insecure and confused as to whether or not he wants to be outside in the dark. I'm not really sure why, but there is something about this little dance, that we'll continue to do near the deck door most summer evenings, that makes me smile.
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