Well, if you’re following social media in and around Cheyenne you know that the miller season is in full swing. Suddenly. Last night. We went from one or two millers and evening to clouds of them.
My favorite part of miller season is that it turns cute little sparrows into fierce predators. The sparrows fly around intersections – where the millers are attracted to the lights – like fighter planes. As you’re waiting at the light you can watch a sparrow pin a miller to the ground and yank at legs and wings like hungry kids at a barbecue.
We’d lost Obi for a while last night and I went searching for him to assure myself I hadn’t let him out by accident. He was upstairs. Watching. I saw the miller on the ceiling and came back downstairs. A little while later, Obi was down in the living room with us. He’d caught the miller and brought it to Oliver for a game.
Later, when we’d all gone to bed, Obi wasn’t settling down. He thumped and bumped around in the darkness for hours. He shuffled the miniblinds. He ran from one side of the house to the other. He launched himself off the headboard.
Then he was up on that half wall by the staircase. Then there was a loud thump. Then…nothing. The Boy and I, discussing it this evening, had both listened for the cries of a broken kitten.
Let that be a lesson to you, Kitten Thunder: if you’re going to get injured, be sure to remain conscious so you can let us know you need help.
Otherwise, we’re going back to sleep.
And now for Thunder Thursday! I bring you Annabelle, my friend Libby’s sweet tortie.
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