Donner and Blitzen and the Summer Immigrants

The dragonfly and firefly hovered over a rose. “Right there! Do you smell it now?” Donner asked Blitzen. “It’s insecticide! She found one of those Dog-gone . . .”

“Now, Donner, you know how I feel when you take the name of Dog in vain!”

Donner looked across the fence at the basset hound. “Sorry, Dog! She found one of those Japanese Beetles and now all the rest of us have to suffer!”

“Donner, there is plenty here in the garden for everyone.” Blitzen insisted as she flew to the daisies. “See, these haven’t been sprayed.”

Donner beat her wings even faster, “You let in the Japanese Beetles and the next thing you know the Cicadas will just make themselves at home!”

Blitzen shook her head. “Donner, we have to be tolerant. Besides,” she began as she looked at the tigerlilies, “Dragonflies aren’t exactly ‘Native Americans’- if you know what I mean.”

“Sure, my ancestors came from Asia, but that was a long time ago. That’s different.”

“Is it?” Asked Blitzen. “I don’t think it makes any difference to Dog.”

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