When I came upon what looked to be a petrified pile of dog poop in the yard, I was baffled. Who did THAT? It wasn’t Ivy’s or Miss Piggy’s. (Sad as it sounds, I do have expertise in that area.) I went back into the garage to get a shovel so that I could remove it.
When I scooped the shovel underneath, the ‘pile’ fell apart and I saw what it really was.
Before you make too much fun of me for not being able to tell a snail from a pile of poo, picture the two interlocked. Thankfully, it’s not an everyday sight. How do they even find each other?
I was so grossed out that I opened the garbage lid and tossed them in.
I’ve felt guilty about it ever since. Had I trashed rare snails? Had I ‘offed’ somebody’s mother and the baby daddy?
When I googled to read just how serious my sin, I read how very hard it is for snails to survive in a world with badass humans who kill them.
Can snails contribute to Wikipedia?
It didn’t take long for the Ghost of Snails Past to begin its haunt. A few days later, I walked into the sunroom and found it waiting for me on the sliding glass door.
Yep. It had suctioned itself to the sliding glass door.
Since the ugly little bastard was playing on my guilt, it probably thought it had a free pass to slime the door. What to do, what to do….
I took the safe option: I yelled for Dearly Beloved.
He dispatched it to a safe area, that being in a natural area wa-a-ay away from the garden AND the door.
Enough with suction-ing creatures attaching themselves to my house!
Then I went into the guest bathroom and looked at the mirror.
That one stays.