Remember the year that those 17-year cicadas descended on us? I think it was 2004. I was living in DC, and those big-ass, slow-flying, noisy bird-bugs were everywhere. In DC, people couldn’t stop talking about them, because they were piling up at our feet on the sidewalks and at our homes. And they were loud! I called them flying buses, because they were so fat and unwieldy they’d accidentally bounce off you in the air.
There was news coverage about people eating them. I thought that was gross. But there was also news coverage about people’s dogs eating them. I thought that was… cool. I showed Sugar that she could eat them.
After that moment, every walk consisted of her frantic vacuuming of cicadas off the sidewalk, leaping into the air to catch them in midflight (a true athletic feat for her), whipping her head from side to side when she heard their characteristic chirp. I eventually decided to enforce a 5-cicada-per-walk limit, because I was afraid she’d get stopped up with cicada parts.
Since then there have obviously not been that many cicadas, and sadly she’ll never see them in that volume again before her puppy life is over, but every so often in the summertime one will appear, late for dinner. But not late for Sugar’s snacktime. She remembers the chirp, and goes berserk looking for the cicada whenever she hears it.
Like last night. I could barely get her to take our walk because she heard one on the patio as we left my house and had to hunt for it. Admittedly, I like seeing her happy so I indulged her and helped her look for it. We didn’t find it.
But it was right there on the patio this morning! I ran to get Shug and pointed to it. She gobbled it right up, and it chirped to its buggy death in her mouth. Immediately I wished I’d thought to get a video.