Do you know what a camel cricket is? Some people call them mole crickets. They are small insects roughly the size of a quarter with a humped form body (thus "camel") and they jump incredible distances, like singing crickets can. Camel crickets also have serrated edges on their legs, so even if they're dead they can hurt you.
I hate camel crickets. I'm scared of them, and I hate them. I especially hate the way they jump so fast. I can't see which way they jumped and honestly, I think they can jump any direction from a standing start.
Once I had a camel cricket jump and "reappear" on my leg, inside my pjs. I have never shucked out of clothing so fast in my life.
Suffice it to say that I feel about camel crickets the same way some people feel about snakes or spiders.
Pippin loved camel crickets. They were great fun to play with, and apparently, good to eat. Sometimes I would come home and find nothing but a set of camel cricket legs. Gross, but better than finding a live one! Since I lived in the basement room, and these evil insects like damp and dark, they proliferated down there.
I would call Pippin's name in a quavering tone of voice, "here's another one, come help me!" and he soon learned that meant I had a wonderful jumpy toy for him to play with. I remember one time distinctly when I wanted to go upstairs and there was a nasty adult camel cricket, big old thing, standing in the middle of the doorway as if daring me to go past it. As if! I'd stay there all night if that's what it took (well, okay, the basement room had a door to the outside, so I'd go out that way and around the house to the back door and ask to be let in, no matter how embarrassing that would have been).
Pippin came running in, "where, where?" and I pointed. (This was something odd about Pippin; most cats do not get pointing. They'll look at your finger. Pippin figured out pointing fairly quickly in his life.) Oh joy oh rapture, a jumpy toy! And he kept the camel cricket occupied and out of the doorway long enough for me to get out and up to supper.
This morning, I was in the mini-bathroom that's off the master bedroom, when a similar situation happened. A baby camel cricket (and no, they aren't cute when they're small) appeared in the middle of the doorway. And of course I was actually in the middle of using the toilet, so I was a little restricted in my movement. The toilet faces the doorway.
I heaved a sigh of resignation. I was going to have to see if I could kill it while not actually leaving the seat. Small camel crickets don't react as quickly or jump as far as the adults, so I had some chance, at least. A wad of toilet paper served to protect my fingers while I tried to squish it. It jumped aside, easily avoiding me.
I'd forgotten Apricot was in the bedroom, hanging about as he normally does when I get up in the morning. He heard or saw me doing different things, and instead of being scared, he was intrigued. He came over ...
And saw the jumpy toy. Oh joy oh rapture, a jumpy toy! He promptly took over trying to kill it, and did a very efficient job of it, too. He didn't actually mean to kill it that quickly, but he managed to smack it up against the doorframe with his paws and squashed it. Much to his puzzlement and disappointment, which he later took out on a stuffed toy mouse.
So apparently I have an applicant for Staunch Defender Against All Things Camel Cricket. We will see if he continues with this the next time one appears. He might not get the whole tone of voice I have when I call him to come rescue me, but then again, he might.
You better believe I praised him up and down for defending me. Good Apricot, wonderful Apricot! Now there's at least a chance I don't have to deal with the horrid things myself. I think the worst part about living with no other humans is that I have to take care of all insect invasions myself, no matter how much I hate them or are scared of them.
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