I just went to look out the back window to look at the snow falling, and there was a ladybug on the outside of the glass, crawling very slowly because of the temperature outside. Poor thing. I tried to grab it, but it wound up falling.
Then I remembered several years ago in Chicago, I guess late 2001 or early 2002, I came back to my apartment from someplace or other, and i saw a mouse near a pile of books on the floor. It didn't try to run, but I saw it breathing very rapidly. Then it dawned on me. The poor thing had been poisoned. Naturally, i didn't want a mouse in my apartment, no matter how poorly it was feeling, but I felt very guilty as I picked up the miserable little critter and took it outside. It was cold out then, too. I put it down on the ground near the alley, and slowly walked back inside.
I'm such a softie.