This one has been living in my kitchen since the fall.
Seriously.
It is the only one of its kind still left (at least still visible) in my house.
I know. I have looked.
I have saved it from drowning -- twice.
I have saved it from the dreaded stuck-on-the-back position -- three times.
I have helped it find warm spots, helped it out of the metal slickery sink, and photographed it in various winsome positions.
When multicolored Asian lady beetles arrived in hordes (truly a plague), I scooped and removed them, heartlessly. (I blogged about them, here and here and here.)
But I grew weary of the killing and finally sealed the front door surround with painter's tape. For weeks, I simply used the back door.
Today, at the shop where I work part-time, I collected 57 of this bug's relatives and escorted them outside. I confess they were not all dead, then. I am certain they are now. It is cold today. Very cold. I do not like this duty, but I do it, as they do not add charm to the goods for sale.
I would like to say I know why this one particular beetle is special, but I am not entirely sure. I do know this: it has a strong "will" to live (I do not think it can will in the sense humans believe they can) and I have no stomach for intentional homicide in light of its instincts.
Besides, I enjoy watching it. This morning, as I have done every morning since its arrival, I made my tea and then played search-for-the-lady-beetle. It took me three different trips into the kitchen over an hour and a half before I discovered her tucked right smartly into the top of a small vase.
I hope good things for her, and for me, too, in this joint venture of survival.
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