There's a slug in my shower. Not a giant, disgusting one, just a teeny one. Normally, this only happens in the summer. And normally, when it does happen, I just let it crawl onto a sheet of paper and take it outside. Not this time. I would very much like the slug NOT to live in my shower, but it's winter, and if I take the poor slug outside, it will freeze.
I've named him. His name is Friar Ted. Yes, I know this is beyond bizarre, even for me. My love of all creatures great and small doesn't usually go quite this far down the food chain. I do relocate non-venomous spiders, because they are useful and eat bugs for us. And the crickets really can't help it that we built buildings in the middle of their prairie land, so I take them outside, too. And yes, I admit that I named the praying mantis on the front porch. And two spiders. Hey, Sergio and Guido were there for so long, I had to name them. A tree frog did once hibernate in my house. But that was an accident. But a slug...it's just so wrong!