My cat’s asleep again.
I guess I’ll take some time to talk about my moth.
I think it’s a “he.” I named him Clyde. We met recently in my bathroom, where Clyde landed, on two different occasions, to accompany me for a sit down chat (I did all the talking).
So, besides that I talk to bugs, the pandemic has turned into lots of great opportunities for me. When kitty’s fast asleep, I still have someone to bond with. And I’m learning.
Clyde moves very little, but uses his little tan-colored moth body to communicate. He likes Elton John and Cat Stevens, and flies around my head when I play music. Beyond our bathroom time, I feel like he’s enjoying my music!
He landed right on my hand while I was playing the guitar!
As I explained in a recent article on Quora, my normal reaction to bugs is to swat them, unless it’s a really nice bug. Clyde taught me that all bugs matter. They can all be cool, if you just give them a chance.
He’s on my living room wall right now, watching me type this. I recently had my doors open for a long time, and no bugs came in (probably due to the time of year), but that’s when I first met Clyde, and today he appears to have brought a friend. I admit I can’t tell them apart. But my itsy bitsy moth couple is more than welcome here!
Maybe I’ll call her Bonnie.
Clyde seems to be an opportunist. I can’t see his eyes ’cause he’s so tiny, but he just moved right in without even asking. I think he’s got a bright future! He was bold enough to befriend me, probably knowing full well not to trust strangers, but we just totally bonded, in seconds.
He’s intuitive and clever; I admire him.
I’m not afraid to admit I have a moth. It’s a way to show my depth of character, fun-spiritedness and ability to love all God’s creations. I mean, we’re not “in love” or anything, but I love having him here. One day I may decide to swat him, which makes me feel every day like I’m a better person than the day before (for not doing it).
One day, if he gets in my face again (like he did the other day), I may swat him by accident, ’cause he tends to fly into my eyes. So that would be bad, but no big loss. He’s not magnificent or anything, just a garden variety tiny little grey moth. If it were a butterfly, I’d know for sure he was my interspecies conduit to higher understanding, my flawless inspirational bug-symbol of universal love … but he’s really not, he’s just a little moth.
We have a very small relationship. It’s meaningful, but only when I have time. Usually I have no idea where he is, but I can still marvel at his perfect non-spectacularness. I understand his shyness. He’s a moth of few words.
I’m thinking of getting a tiny paintbrush; and see if he’ll let me paint his wings orange and black.
See, this temporary isolation has its side benefits!
Happiness is a state of mind!