"If you want to know what a man is like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." -- Albus Dumbledore
the dark spots that I knew deep down
were not algae or mud but withered tadpoles.
I would not let it happen again.
So I filled a pail of water and bumped down the bikepath with the pail, three water bottles, and a flask, to fill the pond with what little extra water I could muster. Mind you, the puddle is about a ten minute's walk at a leisurely pace, five minutes if I'm speeding it. I made it there spilling the lest amount of water possible and dumped it in. Then, with Dad's help (Hi, Dad. You're in this blog a lot), I collected a handful of tadpoles, as seen above, to save just in case that water was not enough.
Brought them home. The next day, it rained and I knew this effort had all been unnecessary.
But oh dear.
Now I've grown attached to them.
So I keep my tadpoles, feeding them, as the internet instructs, lettuce. They didn't like the lettuce.
They liked...each other.
And so one day, I woke up to find twelve tadpoles become eight. Eight become five. And I intervened as fast as possible, but it was hard to notice the losses at the time.
Thus, the survivors (who, morbidly, I assume were the ones who did the eating?) were separated and fittingly given tough names. Brutus. Chomper. Fang. And Spike.
And in my genuine compassion to save their lives, I fear I...I perhaps killed more than what nature would have taken care of. While I do feel bad about it, I also feel like any tiny life we encounter was given meaning by our loving it. Or if that's too emotional for you, by our respecting it. Though their lives were short, I hope I gave them meaning by letting another being love in them.
So. What happened to those two remaining tadpoles, you ask? This is what happened:
Why did many of our ancestors worship animals? Why did they arm themselves with talismans in their honor? Did zoolatry (the worship of animals) ever develop for a deeper meaning? I have a theory. In our world and our lives, we are always uncertain. We've never known. We've always wondered and always sought for our meaning, staring at the moon and stars and not only recognizing their gift of light and measurement, but wondering who we are.
So I guess this is where I publicly contradict myself.
...Are they our inferiors? Or are they just another being serving its purpose in this world and waiting to be known?
I came across this recently. And forgive its somewhat crude nature.
To me, just like us, it is the sound of millions of animals, birds, and insects desperately trying to find each other.
And by the way. Yes. I'll answer the question. I'll settle the heated debates right now, so stop ignoring the Presidential debates to focus on this topic. While I love ALL animals, since I ADORE and consider THESE as EQUIVALENT FAMILY, I hereby STATE...
I am a dog person.