That she was sick on Thursday with the aches and a feeling like her brain was sloshing against her skull was a precipitating factor. But by 8:37 am yesterday morning, it was clear she was completely fine.
As it turns out, she seems to have stayed home so she could watch this ant carry that beetle around:
And report to me that two other ants were mating.
The lazy pace that Zoey and I serve up on Fridays - unusually anathema to Stella - seemed to be just what she needed.
We opened the front door wide, mingling the crisp, chirp-filled air with Chris' expansive morning soundtrack, and settled in for a day of egg creation.
In the afternoon, Stella grew restless, and the house grew quiet — not usually a good sign.
I discovered her out back, gleefully separating the front half of some unsuspecting ants from their back portions with a pair of Chris' pliers.
She made her way back inside after a while, just in time to overhear Chris talking about how his friend wants to teach him how to bird hunt.
"That's so mean!" she complained. "You can't kill birds."
"But you eat birds," I said, which is only half true as she's mostly vegetarian.
"Yes, but they come pre-killed."
Weird human logic. It starts young.
Then Chris chimed in, "Wait a minute, you were just out there killing ants."
"I know, I'm a hypocrite."
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