It's my blog and I'll anthropomorphize if I want to...

A moth followed me into the house the other day. I tried catching it, but it was flying pretty high. I figured one of the cats would soon make quick work of it. Ringo seemed like he wanted to take a shot. Ever since he and his mom Pippin took down that mouse a few months ago, he's been raring for another hunt:


He's hungry like the wolf....

I forgot about the moth until the next morning, when I was startled by the dark blotch on the shower wall.



I'm not the type of person who gets freaked out by bugs - and even when I do freak out, I collect myself enough to try to capture them and set them free, rather than smooshing them (except mosquitoes. no mercy for mosquitoes). But showering and moth rescue are not really compatible activities. And honestly, the thing was so quiet and unobtrusive, I'd forget about it by the time my shower was finished. Besides, I don't have quite as much reason to despise moths as some people.

Yesterday was day three of the moth hiding out in the bathroom. It was fluttering around the shower caddy, perhaps trying to glean sustenance from the bottles of shampoo and conditioner. I took pity on it, and knew I had to set it free.

Moths have always struck me as rather forlorn creatures. Always fluttering around lights they mistake for the moon. Plus their clumsy flight patterns remind me of all the flying dreams I've ever had - the epic struggle to achieve liftoff, the herculean effort to stay airborne... Not to mention, unless you're a Luna moth, people don't really care. It's all about the pretty butterflies. *ahem* Not that I'm bitter.

So, time to set this one free.