Mini-Post: Requiem for a Lizard

One of my cats got ahold of a small lizard last night. Don't ask me what a lizard was doing in the house. I'm sure it regrets its rash behavior. After Joan determined that whatever the cat was playing with wasn't a six-legged creepy crawly that would make me scream like a little girl, I went in and got the lizard away from the cat. I picked it up with a napkin and tried to determine how bad it was hurt.

Answer: Bad. The poor thing was bitten almost in half. Yes, I know this is just part of the food chain and all that, but I don't have to like it. Quickly I rushed outside with the lizard, put it down on the porch and stomped on its head.

After which I, uh, was sick.

Don't get me wrong. I think I did the right thing. There wasn't any helping the poor little guy and he must have been in terrible pain. He's not anymore. But it's been ages since I killed anything. When I have to deal with a spider, I usually catch it and take it outside. I'll wave off mosquitoes, but I won't slap them unless they're biting me. I'm going to have to call an exterminator here, because we've got a hornet's nest someplace near the house, but I'm putting it off. I'm trying to figure out how I can call an exterminator who will somehow get rid of the hornets without killing them. (Right.) Any Buddhist exterminators out there? Hello?

I know people kill things all the time. Bugs, mice, rats, other pests that interrupt our households. Heck, even raccoons. I know it, but I don't like it. Killing things, I mean. I won't tell other people what to do, but I don't want to have to do it. Ever. And it occurred to me that maybe the best requiem for this little lizard is that I did react so strongly to having to kill it. What kind of person would I be if I killed something, shrugged, and went on about my business? And what kind of statement would that be, to this lizard? That would be saying that its tiny life didn't matter. All lives matter, however small.