So anyone who knows me is aware that I am not fond of anything classified as a creepy crawly. If it creeps, I don't like it. If it crawls, I don't like it. If it JUMPS or FLIES, I REALLY don't like it. My husband takes tremendous delight in this particular character trait of mine. In fact within the past three or four months he has accosted me with a cricket spider (the very worst kind of creepy crawly), the shell or jacket of a dead June Bug, and just the other night he threw a cicada in the shower with me! I am perfectly aware that these little creatures are harmless but they are ugly and they scare me. So a few weeks ago I sat down in the bathroom and gasps when I noticed a little black cricket tucked into the corner between our bathtub and the wall. I gasped but didn't really freak because it was only a little cricket and I noticed it wasn't moving much so I figured I would get Charlie to come get it out of the bathroom in a few minutes. Well, believe it or not I forgot about the little thing until later that night when I went back into the bathroom and saw it again, this time just a few inches away from it's original spot. Charlie had already left for work so now I was on my own. I tested it's bravery (as I have learned some bugs are more brave/stupid than others) by putting my flip flop close to it, waiting to see it's reaction, ready to strike if the little booger decided to jump straight at me. Rather than jump it just moved an inch or so away, and that's when I noticed that he was handicapped. Now this, of course, changed everything.
I do HATE creepy crawlies but I have a soft spot for ALL things injured. I once cried (really cried) after killing a lady bug and then noticing another lady bug left all alone not far from the scene of the crime. All I could imagine was that I was the reason this little bug would now be alone, what if I had just killed the love of her life? Or what if it was her child? Or mother or father? Oh, I was so distraught! It didn't help that the Titanic theme song "My Heart Will Go On" was playing on the radio at the time.
So here I was looking at this little creature who was missing one of his back legs and thinking "Oh, poor little guy." Should I put him out of his misery? After all, how could a cricket of all things survive with a missing leg? I was completely puzzled about how and or why he had found his way into our bathroom in the first place, he must have been separated from his family somehow. Poor guy. So I decided NOT to put him out of his misery. What if one of his buggy family members came to save him? Or what he had an escape route in mind and he was just waiting for me to go to bed so he could travel without fear (I don't think he knew about Sammie...who just happens to be a fierce cricket huntress...if she had any idea that this bug was in her house then he would be DOOMED!) So I turned off the bathroom light and went to bed so that this cricket could do what he needed to do. I didn't think about him again until the next night.
This time, he was in the opposite corner of the bathroom just sitting. I noticed him but again decided he was obviously no harm to me so I would leave him be. The next day he was in the bottom of our bathroom closet. The next day I saw him sitting by the bathroom trash can. At this point I started thinking that we had a phenomena on our hands. This cricket was never-ending. He obviously had a passion for life and did not plan on giving up easily. Surely he hadn't eaten since the time he got lost in our bathroom and had his unfortunate accident. His buggy family had not come to his rescue. He HAD to be in pain, and scared, and hungry. I should put him outside right? But how would he survive? So about week and half after first noticing the guy I asked Charlie if he had seen this cricket living in our bathroom. Charlie said yep and he agreed that this insect must really want to live. So we decided to call him our pet and give him a name. Stumpy was the obvious choice of course. I went to sleep that night satisfied with our decision to accept Stumpy as part of our family. The next morning as I was in the bathroom I let my eyes roam the room looking for our little friend. He was gone. Nowhere to be seen. I assume his time had come. I am convinced that Stumpy was listening to our conversation and that perhaps all he needed before crossing over was a little peace. Once he had been given a name he was free to go. I miss Stumpy. I had made a little game of looking for him and yes even smiled when I found him a new a place. Now Stumpy is gone. I hope he is happy wherever he may be. R.I.P. Stumpy.