Summer Flies

Not actual size

That could be a pun.  Summer always did seem to fly by when I was younger.  I can't say that it has slowed down as I age, but it does seem to be more miserable with the heat and the drought (except when my grandson comes over to mow the yard; then it rains--or threatens to rain).  Another misery that seems to be worse this year is the flies.  

The common housefly is all too common this year.  We had a bit of an invasion earlier in the summer, wherein my great granddaughter and I competed to kill every fly that we saw.  It was actually rather fun, and it brought back memories of East Africa.  

My late husband and I were given a house (duplex, lower floor) by the company he worked for in Dar es Salaam.  The living room had a sitting area with a built in divan shaped like a horseshoe.  There were windows on two sides of the room and ventilation slats.  The flies were everywhere--everywhere in East Africa.  My husband, both handy and clever, bought mosquito netting (screen wire for windows was not available in Dar right then) and stapled it to the outside of the windows.  That protected us from mosquitos for the most part, but flies are quite clever in finding a way into the house.  We had several fly swatters, and, lacking TV or other entertainment, we often sat in the living room in the evening, talking and killing flies.  I recall with some pride my "winning score" of five flies with one swat.

I would usually sweep up the day's debris and the dozen or more dead flies we had killed and dump it all in the trash can before we ended the evening and went to sleep.  A few times, of course, I was tired (or lazy!) and left the pile to be dealt with in the morning.  After a while, I noticed, when I did that, that the flies were missing from the pile.  I had thought they were surely dead the night before, but apparently some of them must have recovered and flown elsewhere.  

One evening the mystery was solved.  We heard a splat sound from the kitchen.  I ran in to see what had happened and saw the kitchen gecko on the floor.  He normally lived on the ceiling, but, it seems, he had been overindulging in the free banquet that we were providing in the evening's trash pile.  He had apparently gotten too fat for the little suckers on his feet to hold him on the ceiling.  So, splat!

This summer, we had a second infestation of flies.  Tiny red ones.  They were a misery, and they were too small to hit with a fly swatter.  I eventually searched the internet to find out about red house flies and discovered fruit flies.  The apple in the fruit bowl!  Summer entrances and exits, with the door held open too long, and that feast in the fruit bowl had attracted a mama and her babies.  Not feeling sentimental, I found an light trap with sticky inserts to catch them.   When that didn't work fast enough, I discovered that a bowl of apple cider vinegar with a little dish soap to break the surface tension of the liquid might work.  It did, like a charm.  

As I am preparing for another adventure in New York, I thought to clean up the light trap and insert a sheet of stickum in case any more surprise visitors show up in my absence.  The used one was fully covered with the remains of dozens of those pesky fruit flies.  Sadly, when I removed the sticky part of the trap, I found a little lizard (deceased) stuck to the surface on the back side.

I'm a little surprised that there is a lizard in my house.  Among other things, Biscuit may be old and house bound, but she is a hunter, even if it's just to catch whatever it is that is moving under the blanket (my foot!).  Still, I'm a little sad that my light trap caught the lizard.  If the trap hadn't been there, maybe the little lizard could have feasted as our gecko in Dar es Salaam did.  Maybe if nature had been allowed to do its thing, the fruit flies would have eventually succumbed to the lizard's hunting prowess.  I have to say that it would have been miserable for me, so I'm not going back to nature on this issue.  

In fact, I bought a half gallon of the apple cider vinegar.  I'll be glad when all this heat is over.  In the meantime, I am prepared with fly swatters and apple cider vinegar.  Still, I might give the light trap a rest, and see how it goes.  

You say "crazy cat lady" like it's a bad thing

That's what my socks say.  I bought them as a birthday present to myself a while back.  I really, really want a cat.  My home is very much in transition right now, so it's not a good idea to bring a cat into this much chaos.  Instead, I have cat things to comfort me.  Not too many, mind you, but a touch here and there--the porcelain cat on the entertainment center, the spoon rest with the tea things, an ink drawing bought many years ago.  I am definitely a cat lady.  Alas, sans cat.

So I get these emails from Mother Jones.  For a long while, I didn't read them. They don't land in the primary folder of my email program, so I don't have to look at all these "updates" unless I'm looking for something in particular.  Lately, I've been reading more and more of the messages, clicking over to the magazine and just getting depressed.  We are so killing the planet. Even our cats are killing the planet.  And we, their human enablers, contribute to their killing spree.

At least that seems to be the gist of Keira Butler's recent article, "Are Cats Bad for the Environment?"  Cats, as all cat lovers know, are natural born killers. Indeed, they quite enjoy killing, playing with and generally tormenting their prey in the process.  And then, the dears, they bring the corpse to us so we can pet them and tell them what good kitties they are.  As Butler points out, cats--feral or free ranging--are the top killer of birds in the US, far and above a greater menace than clear glass windows or wind turbines.  And birds, she reminds us, eat the insect pests that plague our enjoyment of the outdoors and help us cope with one of the more unpleasant side effects of climate change--even more bugs.

I think that an ethical life includes concern for the planet.  We are here for a short time.  Our present is affected by how the planet has been treated in the past, just as those who follow us will be affected by our treatment of the planet.  We have a responsibility to the future to live in the present having some care about the damage we do to the planet.

Does this mean I can't have a cat?  Maybe.  In my concern for my potential pet, I have postponed adoption until I have a more stable home environment.  I have been considering the pros and cons of declawing--and have not yet resolved my thinking there.  That my future pet will be spayed is a given.  I think that keeping the cat in the house is going to be another consideration.  I've lived with indoor cats, outdoor cats, and cats who keep me opening and closing the door 50 times a day.  The local coyotes and my songbirds are now casting opposing votes--the coyotes seem to be thinning out the outdoor cat population in our area; the songbirds are more noticeable than ever and suggest that keeping the cats away is a good idea.

Pets, however, are so healing.  I have several times visited Petco to talk to the cats available there for adoption.  In dark times, these cats have represented hope and comfort to me.  The cats of friends can be standoffish--as cats usually will be--so I've seen more welcoming attention from their dogs.  Dogs, of course, are either little and wiggly or big and slobbery.  Not at all what a cat lady wants, thank you.  Cat person or dog person or even reptile person, we are all helped by having some creature that seems attached to us, that accepts our care, and, with a little anthropomorphizing, serves as a companion in our life.  It's hard to see how humans can give up all pets in order to live ethically in respect to the planet, not easily anyway.

I have a no good answer for the growing problem of feral cats.  I can only look at what I can do as an individual.  So:

1. I'm thinking of ordering Teeny Tiny Kitten in a Box.  
2. I bought a teddy bear.  Really.  We haven't bonded to the point where I've given him a name, but I knew he was a guy because of the bow tie.  So far he ignores me just as I expect my future cat will do.  He will, however, willingly cuddle when I need something to hold on to.  He's better than a pillow anyway.  Cats, of course, are more often the deciders when it comes to cuddling.  They choose the time and place--usually when and where you are in the middle of some crucial task and there is the greatest risk of spoiling everything with a swish of a tail or a curious paw--for any cuddling that might be allowed.  The bear does not, however, purr.  I expect he'll get donated as soon as I do get a cat.  Unless the cat likes him.
3. As I'm considering getting a cat, I will have to be mindful of the consequences, not only for my life and the cat's well being, but also for the broader environment.  This means adoption from a shelter, likely an older cat whose previous owner had to give her up, spayed, indoor.  And then there's kitty litter disposal. Maybe I'll just see how this kitten-in-a-box does.