"Oh no! I already righted him once," proclaims my bleeding heart (said lovingly) friend Jennie.
She was referring to an ailing bumblebee, which she'd gently picked up by the wing and put on its tummy.
I guess she didn't want it to die on its back, which it was bound and determined to do.
She's not the only friend that has a bleeding heart, or should I say peculiar affinity, for rescuing things.
My girlfriend Amanda once talked me into buying a mouse-friendly mouse trap. You stick the peanut butter in the end, they get in but can't get out.
The idea, said Amanda, is to catch the mouse, shake the trap, then walk outside and turn it loose, disoriented. If this was supposed to make it lose the sense of direction to my house, it didn't work. Appearing drunk, it teetered off, only to return within a day or two to torture me.
Amanda's the type of person that if she sees a spider skittering across the floor, she makes a mad dash for a piece of scrap paper, then captures it and turns it loose outside.
Amanda was undaunted when she was bitten by a spider as she lay sleeping one night. It was the ugliest, nastiest wound I've ever seen. She smiled, shrugged and, like I said, remained undaunted in her effort to save any living creature, no matter how gross.
I have no love for mice, bugs, spiders or anything else that falls into insect or rodent category.
I say kill 'em all.
And sometimes, this makes me feel guilty because I know these creatures have a purpose, like checks and balances...one kind of creature prevents an infestation of another kind of creature. Owls eat mice, spiders eat flies, etc.
This is no small comfort, though, when hopping into the shower only to find a wayward spider whose lost its way.
Time and time again, when I spot a critter, I reach for the nearest, heaviest object with which to squish it.
I figure there's no need for guilt. I'm only one person. There are plenty of other critters out there to keep the world in check.