Just now I let the dogs outside before going to bed, I found them at the front door, excitedly pawing at something that I assumed was a big katydid or praying mantis that had been attracted to the porch light. When I looked closer it was a little house gecko. I picked it up to save it, but realized it was beyond repair, it's little belly was torn open and it's guts were exposed. In my disgust I flung it off the porch and came back in. I realized it was still alive, but had no chance of living. It would just lay out there until something came and ate it or it died of exposure or however tiny wounded lizards die. I was sad. I decided it would be kinder to put it out of its pain and kill it. I put on the headlamp and found it laying in the dirt where it landed, still alive. I crushed him with a hammer, hoping that would be the quickest most decisive death I could deliver. I buried him and came back in. I know some people would say I'm ridiculous, maybe even a lot of people, but it makes me sad to end even this small life.

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