What did I do on the Fourth? Who knows? This was written beforehand and I’m not psychic (cue the “psycho” comments).

But whatever it was, I’m sure it was too hot outside (even though as I write there are rain chances most of this week), so I would have spent most of my time inside, perhaps watching movies or reading books. Maybe I played with my fur-nephews. Maybe I went to hang out with my people and eat.

It’s not like I’m a social butterfly with big plans. I’m an anti-social butterfly (with the lapel pin to prove it) who prefers small plans if any at all.

When I was a kid, we’d usually go to the Greenwood town square (so much of my life was spent there!) to watch the fireworks after having spent the day with Uncle Charlie, Aunt Carol and the cousins at their house on Shadow Lake. Now I mostly avoid fireworks displays, and being outside in summer now is just asking for a rerun of the summer of second-degree sunburn (though it would be unlikely there would also be leeches this time, thank God).

I still “get” to hear fireworks thanks to neighbors (oh, and my migraines thank you too), plus I live near enough to the riverfront that I can usually hear at least a few loud booms from Pops on the River, but not so close that I can hear the music or actually see the fireworks.

At the moment, though, I’m sitting in a cool house that’s not mine since my AC is struggling with the heat and humidity, which has just been getting worse every year (I’ll be installing a shade cloth on the bedroom window that gets a full blast of sun, and this fall I’ll find a smallish tree to plant in front of it). I hopefully will be home by the time you read this. In the meantime, I’m enjoying time with fur-nephew Charlie and contemplating one of the few things I actually like about summer (besides lightning bugs, which I rarely see anymore): the sploot.

Why? First, it satisfies my word-nerdiness by being fun to say. Second, it’s fun to watch animals splooting (humans sploot too, but generally not outside; I’ve splooted a few times on especially hot nights).

So what is splooting? It’s lying on your stomach, legs spread (and arms too, if you’re a primate), on a cool surface to bring down your body temperature. Humans sweat, which cools us down, but most animals don’t have the amount of sweat glands we do. To cool off, they may pant, dunk themselves in water, or find some shade, among other things … like sploot.

The word “sploot” is so new that no one seems clear on the etymology yet, with some linguists suggesting it’s a variation on “splat,” but I’m taken by the suggestion from John Harris, emeritus professor of linguistics at University College London, that it might be a portmanteau (a word blending the sounds and meanings of two words) of “splay” and “cute.” It’s also called “pancaking” and “frogging,” but I like “splooting” better.

The past couple of summers, social media has been filled with pictures of squirrels splooting (if Kevin, the somewhat lovable squirrel who raids my friend Sarah’s bird feeders, sploots, we’ve yet to capture it in a photo, dang it), but it’s not just squirrels who do it. If you follow the National Park Service on social media, you may be treated to pictures of bears in full sploot, accompanied by the caption “Sploot like nobody’s watching.” (If you’re on social media at all, follow the National Park Service, especially if you love offbeat humor and animals. Whoever runs their social media accounts is just as goofy as I am.)

I’ve only managed to catch Charlie doing a half-sploot, but my dearly departed Luke would sploot like nobody’s business, sometimes in reverse (as did my parents’ pooch Pepper), stretching his entire length of about a yard in the spot most likely to cause his mama some pain if she tripped over him.

It’s part of the cat code, ya know.

But it’s not all as cute as it sounds, with reason to think about the consequences of inaction on climate change.

NPR reported last week: “[W]hile it may seem goofy and cute (it is), splooting can be a sign that squirrels are experiencing temperatures much higher than what they’re used to. Climate change is making things worse. Carlos Botero, an associate professor of integrative biology at University of Texas at Austin, says ‘the temperatures we’re experiencing right now are a little bit beyond the typical ability of this animal to withstand.’

“Temperatures in Austin have blazed past previous records. The heat index values, or ‘feels-like temperature,’ reached their highest ever at 118 degrees. And experts say this is not normal. …

“Animal physiologist Andrea Rummel, an incoming assistant professor of biosciences at Rice University, says splooting is likely enough to keep squirrels cool for now. But it might not be if temperatures continue to rise, she says, because ‘there’s only so much one avenue of heat loss can do.’

“‘Just like with humans. Sweating works really well a lot of the time. But if it’s too humid outside and the water won’t evaporate, you can sweat all you want but it won’t evaporate off you and draw that heat away.’

“‘For every kind of thermal regulatory mechanism, there is a point at which it doesn’t work anymore, and that depends on environmental temperature. So it’s going to get harder and harder for squirrels to sploot effectively—for humans to sweat effectively—as temperatures rise.’”

So it’s hard enough to stay comfortable as it is, and it’s sure to get worse. Oh, joy. Guess I won’t be getting rid of the ice packs anytime soon.

We’ve had more than enough extreme weather, especially in summer, over the past few years to last a lifetime. I’d gladly give that up even if it meant no more cute sploots.