Summer solstice today.
Not much to report. Molly and Natasha came over in the morning and hung out with Roderick. Then they all left for the Mill Pond. Roderick took Laddie with him.
Roderick never takes me to the Mill Pond.
Of course, I can go there myself. I can go anywhere in Beauneville if I put a mind to it. Still, it’s the principle of the thing.
On the bright side, at least Laddie was out of the house. Laddie is OK for a dog, but he’s not very bright. Most of the time he just sits there with his tongue hanging out, craving attention.
Dogs are high maintenance.
In the evening, Roderick took Molly to the Summer Solstice dance. I thought about tagging along but decided to sit on the porch with Mr. and Mrs. Smith. They were counting moon bugs.
Mr. Smith prattled on and on about the moon bug life cycle. Their eggs are dormant for nine years, then they all hatch together at the summer solstice, mate once, lay their eggs, then die.
Kind of a stupid existence, if you think about it.
I caught one. Yeccccch. No wonder they have no natural predators.
Restless, I went to spy on Natasha. The Zemlinskys own the house behind the Smiths, facing Dogwood Avenue. She’s an artist and uses the carriage house as a studio. I can see in the window from the woodpile next to the hedge.
She had her easel set up and was painting a still life.
Natasha has three cats, all eunuchs. Corot is a large tabby like me, but with no balls. Matisse is a Siamese and Hopper a fat Persian. Completely useless cats. No sign of them tonight.
I returned home. Mr. and Mrs. Smith had gone to bed -- I guess they were bored with counting moon bugs. Roderick and Molly were still out, so I went to sleep on Roderick’s bed.
Sure enough, Roderick woke me up when he went to bed. It never fails. The Smiths bought him a big bed so we could sleep together, but he can’t climb under the covers without poking me with his smelly feet. It’s disgusting.
I got my revenge in the morning by purring in his face.
All for now.