Ipswich Illuminated was awesome. For the humans, at least. The path along the river had a pretty continuous stream of humans. And it seemed to be good for the dogs as well. From the grass, we could hear quite a number of dogs barking. It was too chilly for most of our mosquito friends. We had the event more or less to ourselves.
We normally don’t get so much light along the path. Someone put little lights inside white paper lunch bags all along the way. Which made it easy, at first, to latch on to pant legs and socks and the occasional beagle.
But to be honest, we’re not used to such bounty. Ten people going by in one evening is a good night for us. It’s not an easy life, you know. We have to lie there, waiting, sniffing for breath or body odor, or sensing body heat, or moisture, or vibration, or anything that might be a clue. We can’t jump, we can’t fly. At most, we can hang on to a blade of grass with our back legs, and stretch out our front legs, hoping somebody happens by so we can snag them and hitch a ride. Go ahead, try holding your front legs out like that, see how you like it. If you don’t cramp up within five minutes, I want to meet your personal trainer.
We heard people walking the path, during Ipswich Illuminated, worrying about ticks. But they had nothing to worry about. By 20 minutes into the event, we had bailed out. We were in the grass, bloated and miserable. My cousin Lenny, normally a very moderate guy, was rocking back and forth between the roots of a pin oak, moaning, “Dang! I drank too much!” And he hadn’t even been to the Episcopalians’ beer stand yet.
You could get crushed on that path, by all those people. There should be a traffic light or something, at either end of the path, to keep the flow of people regulated, and give us ticks a chance.