While everyone else was focused on the cicada boom, we had another insect problem a little closer to home.
Actually IN our house.
I couldn’t help but notice it when it appeared out of nowhere and jumped in my face.
“AAAAHHHH!” I screamed like any normal person would when a giant bug thing popped in their face.
“Monty,” I said to the dog next to me when I had recovered from the shock. “Get the giant beetle thing!”
My loyal dog, my protector, my friend for life, glanced at this bug as it landed and ran away with its tail between its legs.
“Coward!” I screamed after him.
Now it was just me and the giant bug. I had to get closer to see it better, but I was afraid it would jump in my face again. I pushed myself, alone and defenseless, as far as I dared and looked at the huge beetle thing.
That’s when I realized it was a cricket. But not just your normal, everyday cricket. It was mega cricket. A mammoth cricket. It was … Bugzilla.
I remembered seeing one of these once in my basement in our old suburban home and calling the National Guard. It didn’t just jump. It stood on its back legs and told me to get out of here. Our washing machine was in the basement, and I immediately decided our days of clean underwear were over.
Meanwhile, back in our new house, I didn’t know if Bugzilla had followed me here or if this was a cousin trying to overthrow our new domain. My greater concern, however, was not about these cave crickets, as they are called. The question was whether he had brought the entire extended family with him to rule our kingdom.
“Honey,” I said to my husband on the phone. “We have a huge cricket in the house.”
“We live in the country now,” he said. “There are more mistakes here.”
“OUTSIDE,” I yelled. “The beetles belong to“ OUTSIDE ”!
“Well, I don’t speak a bug, so I can’t tell you,” he said.
I hung up and looked around, but Bugzilla was gone. That was bad news. The only thing worse than seeing a giant bug is seeing a giant bug and then making it disappear and later popping up somewhere else in the house when you least expect it. Like when your mother-in-law is visiting.
I grabbed a fly swatter, it’s like taking a water pistol to a duel, and went back to the crime scene, but there was no cricket. I searched the next room. NO cricket. I’ve searched the whole floor. No cricket. At that point I decided there was only one thing to do.
My husband came home an hour later. I greeted him with my suitcase at the door.
“Did you get rid of the cricket?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do you know where the cricket is?” He asked.
“No.” I answered.
He looked at my suitcase.
“What are you doing right now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I said. “I’m leaving.”
Tracy Beckerman’s new book Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble is out now. W. Bruce Cameron, author of A Dog’s Purpose, says he was “completely enchanted with the whole thing, from front to back.” It’s available on Amazon.com.
