I sprayed on the side and under the fridge and under the stove again last night and again was up with James to mop up the floor. I didn't see any live critters when I mopped, but did kill two later in the morning and just found two dead now.

I surrender. I called the folks that have our termite coverage and they're coming over next Wednesday. They will use organic insecticides because of the fids, but that will be "green" as well, so that makes me happy. I'd rather spend the money and have peace of mind. Shredded sanity is no fun.

Meanwhile, I have the Ortho backup. Should they get on the counters or the stove, the lady at the exterminator says I can spray them with...Windex! Apparently they and the ammonia don't get along.

I've always wondered if I simply got my insect aversion from my mom and godmother and a whole horde of Italian relatives, but I was reading Gladys Taber's Especially Father for the first time and came upon these lines: "Nothing probably compares with the feeling a New Englander has about any form of insect. It is a sin to have so much as a small spider in the attic..." So I come by it regionally, too. :-)

I did some research on the web. They are not german roaches, but brown-banded ones, and I found the incubation period for the eggs on several websites. They definitely must have come from the bag of birdseed that I bought at Fred's discount store, since it's just about fifty days since I saw three near the bag and killed them. There must have been others who "fled for the hills," e.g. the nice warm space under the fridge and the stove.

Also arranged for the fids to go to the vet. Willow will have a bath and have her claws clipped. She should [sarcasm alert] love that.

I took Willow out after I got home from the post office/Michael's. The folks next door are fixing up their yard with a nice wooden playground set for their little girl, and they are getting help from one set of grandparents. The elder members of the family have a Doberman with them, and when Willow went to the fence to stick her nose under at Tyler the Weimaraner, the Doberman nose was there, too, and he broke out in big bold barks. Wil's really brave with a fence between her and another dog; she play bowed and bounced along the fenceline, but the fur was erect all the way down her spine and as I led her away she gave angry huffs like she does to the Dalmatians. "Imagine the nerve of that guy," she seems to be saying.

Labels: dogs, insects

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 3:14:00 PM

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