The Sticky Little Creatures are back; at least, they’re outside more often, yelling and screaming and laughing at these horrible, ear-splitting levels. I sit in my window and watch them—heck, even the birds scatter when one of them gets close. Who can blame them?

The other day the Woman left the front door open, and took the glass off the screen so we could get some fresh air, and the Man put a box in front of it so I could see out better. They went outside, I think to talk to other People (though I haven’t figured out why that’s so much fun, just standing there and talking without food being involved), but after a while he brought one of the Sticky Little Creatures to the door to see me.

I don’t mind this one so much, as long as he stays on that side of the door. He doesn’t squeal at me, and even if I press my face up to the screen, he doesn’t poke. There’s some kind of game he was trying to play—he kept crouching down where I couldn’t see him and then he popped back up—but I didn’t get it. It amused him, so what the heck.

The key is that door…as long as the Sticky Things stay on the outside, I can tolerate them, I suppose. They are entertaining sometimes, especially when they’re rolling down the street on their wheeled toys, and sometimes even when they get seriously ticked off at the Big People.

I love a good temper tantrum.

It’s nice out today, but I haven’t seen any of them out there yet. I think the Big People are hiding them.

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