What fun we had one weekend getting messy with sidewalk chalk, pulling weeds and playing with bugs...
(you might want to enlarge to get the full effect)
The doodle bug survived, but not without some serious injuries. I, too, have my own Lennie story. I kept it for a long time as one of my darkest secrets, but when I told some friends recently, I was rather surprised to find out how many people had their own Lennie stories. So here it is. Maybe this will free you to tell your own story. ;)
I was in Lubbock, living alone for the first time... well not alone, Lowly was living with me. Lowly is the Corn snake that my sister had kept as a pet in her room since I was in 4th grade. For years my sister had to buy a couple of live mice on a monthly basis to feed her little constrictor. Over the years she began to feel an attachment to the little rodents and developed feelings of guilt that she couldn't shake at feeding time. So after having Lowly for over a decade, she asked me to adopt him. (We already knew Lowly was a HER at that point but its hard to make that change after so many years... I know how Sher must feel.)
So Lowly came to live with us (me and my roommate Sara) in College Station. When we graduated, she moved on to Lubbock with me as well.
One day at feeding time I had a particularly jumpy little mouse in a brown paper sack. I was terrified of letting one of these critters get loose in my house (it had happened before) and when I saw it was jumping higher and higher I grabbed the top of the sack and closed my fist tightly over it so as not to let the little guy get out. And then, when I let my grip relax just a bit... thud... the dead mouse dropped to the bottom of the brown-paper-sack-of-death.
I'd just killed an animal with my bare hands... I was horrified and began to bawl. Though I don't care for mice and always watched with great interest as Lowly hunted, killed and swallowed her prey, I never wished to have had such a direct "hand" in the death of any animal. (Unless it is a possum on my fence threatening my baby Beans... and even then I'd like to use a weapon, not wring its neck with my bare hands!!!)
I called Kevin to come over and console me (and help me decide what to do with the now dead mouse that super-hungry-Lowly kept circling around but would not eat.) He laughed heartily at me and called me "Lennie" and "Mouse-slayer" for a while. So glad I called him.