Ants

I keep a few potted plants, of the succulent type, in the windowsill of our living room. On Saturday night I noticed a trail of ants just inside the window, crawling down to the carpet.

Ants. We've been lucky in Seattle. In Santa Barbara, ants were routine. I suspect all the houses were built on ant hills because living ant-free was a constant battle for just about everyone.

In Seattle, our house may have big carpenter ants around the deck, but none have ever come inside. Until Saturday. I moved the plants, grabbed ant spray from the shed, and applied it judiciously. Then I realized what they wanted: dry cat food.

We have one of those cat food feeders that's programmed to go off twice a day so there's never much food sitting there. At least there wasn't when Vash was alive. Chiana is smaller and takes her time. She enjoys the chewing, relishes the graze.

I moved the feeder outside, dumped the dry food into a sealed bag, and went to the store to buy a few child-proof ant traps. (The only kind I saw.)

So that's the story of our Saturday night ant adventure. Jer washed the feeder as best he could -- you can't submerge the mechanical bits -- and I left it in the garage next to two ant traps.

Poor Chiana will just have to accept a human dry delivery system for a few days. Though she doesn't seem that torn up about it.