Ode to Stanley

That green stick to the right is Stanley.  It's only had it's name for the past, oh, 12 hours, because 12 hours ago is when I put it outside to be thrown away and then Chris proclaimed, "No! You can't just kill it!"  Oddly enough I was having major guilty feelings about sending it to it's death so when Chris went running by me to grab it I felt slightly relieved.  I told Chris if he trimmed it, watered it daily, and named it, he could keep it.  He gave it a haircut, drowned it in water, and named it Stanley.

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That heart-warming rescue story reminded me of all the tiny creatures my parents allowed me to have, and all the tiny creatures I sent to death because I WAS A KID!  Oh my gawds, the guilt.  It bubbles inside me every now and then.  The sadness.  The fear of being a tiny creature brought into the life of a child.  If I have kids I will never get them anything smaller than a cat or a dog.

I'd like to have a moment of silence for the following little beasties:

Cinammon (hamster)
Brownie (gerbil)
Brownie's 6 babies
The 6 babies dad who I think Brownie actually killed in retaliation for him killing the babies (yes, I'm slightly traumatized by this)
2 frogs
6 or so green anoles

If I could go back and never have them I would. R.I.P.

I'm going to go hug my dogs and cats now.  The dogs, anyways.  The cats run in terror.