ANT!

It is summer. Know how I can tell? The Cat tells me so, reporting on the battalion of ant commanders she has cornered in the back bathroom's tub. DESTROY! she bids me at the top of her lungs. DESTROY OR I SHALL!

Now there's a problem.

The Cat, though she is not about to admit it, is not invincible. Indeed, The Cat can be pretty easily vinced. Cats are not all in possession of their full nine lives - some arrive to adopt you after having spent down that allowance by quite a ways, and there's no barcode on the tail to let you know just how many are left. As a result, despite The Cat's claims to immortality and Bast descendancy, she is not. (neither is 'he' if your Cat is a male)

The Cat bids me to vanquish this attacking foe with every bit of firepower I can muster, up to and including dynamite. Naturally, The Cat would then insist that I build a new house for her, and since this one is paid off, I'm reluctant to blow it to bits. Instead, I reach for the Combat ant traps first. Between those, a liberal dosing of cinnamon as a perimeter block, a heavily applied line of talcum powder, and the upending of a Pink Lemonade Crystal Lite into the bottom of the tub, the ants begin to beat a slow retreat, leaving behind a small pile of ant corpses. I think nothing in particular killed them. I think, on the other hand, that they laughed themselves to death when they saw me grab for the drink powder.

Something worked though. This morning, the hundreds had dwindled to a few dozen, and most of them were laughing too hard to move.

It is but the first attack of many, and we have learned over the years to expect a series of onslaughts, first in that bathroom, then through the pantry. Then scouts will be deployed to the kitchen and a perimeter patrol into the dining room skulking through the carpet. This year, I shall be prepared! (note: I say that every year)

The kitchen is spotless, and the floor is freshly washed and waxed. We certainly don't want the ant patrols overtaxing themselves by walking across an unwaxed floor. Since there is almost nothing more embarrassing than emptying 2/3 of a can of ant spray at a line of caraway seeds minding their own business near the sink, all countertops have been cleared and scrubbed twice, and are now decorated with discreet arrays of ant hockeypucks.

The Cat approves and, having lost interest in the dead corpses and talcum powder, is howling for the rest of the reinforcements to arrive so she can watch me panic.

On a serious note: Many insect sprays are deadly to both insect and cat. Some are actually listed as safe to other household pets but lethal to cats. Read all labels and store out of the reach of children, dogs, other pets, and your owner (The Cat).