“KILL IT!” I squealed. “What is it?” he asked, cautiously approaching.
“Step on it! Squash it with your shoe! It’s a cockroach!”
“Do they bite? Will it hurt you?” he asked while the doomed cockroach crunched under his shoe. “Well, no” I replied “but they’re really ugly and I hate how they skitter around and they just gross me out!” A perfectly good reason to kill something, right? Not only kill something, but make someone else kill it for you. The same scenario has been played out trillions of times with women and their husbands/boyfriends and spiders all over the world since time began.
After the dead cockroach was removed from my sight and put in a garbage bag far, far from my personal space, I relaxed and went back to my lounge chair and cup of tea. I noticed a small ant had fallen into my tea. I stuck my pinkie in the tea and let the ant climb aboard. Then I graciously allowed the ant to climb off my finger and resume his life on the ground. “Aw, I thought, “there you go cute little ant. You almost drowned but I saved you. Enjoy the rest of your life.”
As I watched the ant I suddenly realized that it was “skittering” away too. So why didn’t the ant’s skitter bother me like the cockroaches skitter did. I guess it’s because the ant is so small that it appears “cute” to me. A two inch exact replica of the same ant would have me squealing for its death too. What’s up with that?
I hate killing things, (or making others kill things for me); even spiders and cockroaches. After I cause something to die I always feel guilty. After all, everything on this earth has a purpose and everything is an amazing miracle of creation. Yes, even cockroaches. I just don’t want them in my house, or my yard, or within a mile radius of me actually.
It’s interesting that I don’t feel the same guilt when I spray bug spray in suspected areas and then a week later see the upside down bodies with their legs curled inwards and large X’s over their eyes. In fact, that always makes me feel satisfaction. “Ha! Gotcha!” Meanwhile stomping on them would have been a quicker death than poisoning them.
The same goes for mice by the way. Mice are really cute as cartoons but not at all when the real versions are in your house. My husband thinks the same of squirrels but I kind of get a kick out of watching them play in the oak trees. Its game over if they come into the house though.
I love nature and all creatures but something dark comes over me when nature walks into my house. It feels like a billion year old instinct flickers to life within me. Survive! Kill! Kill to survive! And that is why the cockroach had to die. I’m sorry cockroach…it had to be.