My Phoebe isn't much of a huntress. She was taken from her mama at just 6.5 weeks, you see, and has been indoors ever since. You'd think she might have picked up a hint or two from watching Eddie, hunter extraordinaire, at play, but no. I guess her toys don't seem enough like prey to bother with learning how to plot their capture. She'd much rather just chase them around than have to worry about strategy and pouncing...

She's wonderful company, though, and she never lets me forget it. Who'd want to hunt, she says, when you can follow the human around and chat, and then get fed for no apparent reason?

Well.

In the bathroom last night, preparing for bed, we were discussing the pros and cons of being woken at 4:00AM when a huge, flickering shadow appeared on the wall. A moth. A huge, hairy moth. For the purposes of this story, it was the size of a small eagle (I'm sure there are eagles out there somewhere which are only a few inches long - even if they aren't hatched yet). It was easily the biggest moth I've ever seen, in all honesty. And I am utterly terrified of moths. I screamed. My husband came running. I screamed again: "Don't open the door! It'll get out!" He left when he discovered I wasn't actually being murdered, anyway. "It's only a moth," he said. Bastard.

Meanwhile, I was panicking, trying to figure out how I was going to get it back outside (understand, please, that moths are the only creatures capable of turning me into a blithering idiot). I could turn off the lights and open the window, then maybe it'd fly back out - but turn off the lights? Then I wouldn't be able to see it! What am I, nuts? I could... try and sneak out of the bathroom and come back in the morning, but then it'd still be in there, only hidden... shudder. And besides, I couldn't go all night without peeing!

Crunch.

I turned around, and there was my sweet little inept Phoebe, with 2 inches of hairy moth sticking out of her mouth. Two more crunches and it was gone. I have no idea who was happier... it would've been me, hands down, had she not looked so damned proud of herself afterwards. She slept in the bathroom last night, waiting for another one to come along. And she's been sitting in there for most of the day, watching the walls.

Personally, I hope it doesn't happen again for a long time...but if it does happen, next time I'll know who to call. And it won't be my husband!

Copyright © Krista Toupin