The Salty Slug

Slugs may be gross, but even they deserve respect.

   It was another cool fall day when I saw the slug. I stepped out onto my back porch, a silver spoon in hand, determined to make archeologists everywhere proud. I always hoped that if I tried hard enough, I’d eventually manage to unearth a dinosaur that had passed away in my own backyard millions of years ago. All I ever managed to find were clumps of dirt. I could feel that that day was going to be different, though. I was determined to find myself a dinosaur.

   I strode across my patio, and happened to glance down. Then I saw it. I stared down at a disgusting, slimy, gross, horrible looking creature slowly inching its way across the concrete patio floor. My bone-hunting antics were immediately forgotten as I stared at the slug; I had a new mission to complete.

   I quickly ran back into my house and slammed the spoon down on the counter. I then began to look around for the salt. I saw the shaker of salt sitting on our dining room table.  I made a grab for it, and once I had it in my possession, I was satisfied. Now all I had to do was tell my mom. After all, she needed to know what I was doing, in case that vicious slug decided to attack. Plus, my mom might be proud of me vanquishing that horrible beast.

   I sighted my mom and excitedly ran up to her, salt in hand. I looked up at her and quickly asked if I could pour salt on the slug I found in the backyard. She just looked at me knowingly and said, “I don’t think you should.”  I looked up at her and replied, “Why? I really want to!” Now my mom knew very well what would happen to a slug if one were to pour salt on it. She looked at me seriously a just stated, “Fine. You can pour the salt on the slug if you want to. Just keep in mind as you’re pouring salt on that slug, that’s its last few moments of life will be completely filled with pain and suffering.”

   That answer was good enough for me. Who cared? It was just a silly slug. I skipped out back to my backyard and stared down at the slug. I tilted the salt shaker slightly, ready to pour. Then I stopped to think. My mom's words came back to my mind. Now, it’s ridiculous how much guilt affects me. Just the smallest twinge of guilt can convince me to never attempt to try something again. This little feeling of guilt just crept up inside me and kept growing until I finally lost all interest in killing the slug. I turned around, salt shaker still in my hand, and went inside. That slug got to live to see another day.

   That little incident in first grade taught me that I need to respect all
forms of life. Life is absolutely precious, and absolutely no one has the right to end it prematurely, especially in such a cruel manner.  The only exception to this little rule in my life is spiders. Spiders are way too dangerous and scary to be allowed to crawl around my house.