Crickets come in bags blown up with air. You get 15 at once, 10 cents a bug. I bring the bag home, get a scissor, the container into which they will be put, and the frog, and go outside. We sit on the front step, all of us. I cut a corner off the blown-up bag and insert it into the peeled-back edge of the container cover. The crickets drop down, with shaking, and fly in obediently. I shake two remaining bugs directly into Skipper’s house. He eats them. The Siamese cat comes around to watch. We go back inside and resume our respective activities. Easy enough.

Today, it will be hard. I will need to figure out how to retrieve one bug from the box without letting his eleven buddies jump out. 

Meantime, Twyla and I go out back. And, lo and behold, the mouse is no more. Eradicated from the spot, without a remnant. Poof. I am feeling good about the cycle of life. Best not to interrupt sometimes, at least when shovels are in the offing. 

So, there we are. A clean slate. 

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