You loved all living creatures – which is but one reason your suicide came as such a nasty shock. While the first words out of my mouth as a child were “kill it; kill it; kill it!” you would protect that innocent, disgusting bug from becoming an itty bitty spot on the sole of someone’s shoe.
If you were asked to kill a fly, you’d trap it and release it to the Great Outdoors. Same with a spider or other critters too awful to contemplate. When mom would put us down for naps, she’d do a load of our clothes. As she checked your pockets she found the critters to whom you had given refuge. From what I understand, you told mom it was too hot out for the poor beasties.
One evening we had gotten hoagies for dinner. As usual mom went back to the TV room afterward to watch Walter Cronkite. Did you know I take after mom and don’t usually turn lights on while walking around at night? I know where everything is so if I’m not looking for some specific item, why bother?
Anyway, mom walked through the hallway and saw something wet and slimey looking laying on the floor. Apparently a slug got in – a hitchhiker on the dog perhaps? – and got as far as the back hall. Mom yelled for you to “killitkillitkillit!” You walked over and picked the damned thing up in your bare hands! EW!! You walked toward mom, holding the slug in front of you as you closed in on her. She backed into the wall, throwing her hands protectively in front of her, all the while yelling “killitkillitkillit!” That’s when you asked “How do you kill a pickle?”