This morning on the way out it was gray, gloomy and damp. (We had the most delicious storm last night that scared me half to death. I sat on the couch hugging my knees saying “I’m scared, I’m scared” while Joey ran around unplugging things.)

So as I walked down the steps in my high heels, my eye caught something and I gasped/shrieked.

“Joey! A snail!” I bent down and immediately picked it up before Joey was able to say, “Ew, gross, don’t even touch that.” But since I had already picked up the snail I figured I might as well keep it.

I put the snail right close to my face and looked it over. “This guy is interesting,” I told Joey. Want to see?” I held it up for Joey and he backed away.

“That thing is gross.”

“It’s not either gross, it’s cool and I’m taking it with me,” I said, and climbed in the car. “See how he moves his feelers around if I get too close with my finger?”

“Blaaugh,” Joey said, and backed out of the parking space.

I wish I had taken a picture. In hindsight I really could have, since I had my camera, but I entirely forgot because I was so taken with the squishy snail-slug and his shell. I rolled him over and noticed that he twisted and contorted himself so that he was right side up. I put him back and, after a few minutes, noticed that he had turned himself sideways.

“He’s trying to find the ground,” Joey said.

“I know, I’ll put him in the grass once we get there,” I said. I touched my finger to the oozy little body of the snail and watched him suck himself into his shell. “Cooool.”

“That poor snail,” Joey said.

And, just as promised, I put him in the grass right outside when we finally got to where we were going. The snail seemed a little surprised by the grass’ texture, but I think he’ll settle in just fine. Once a month or so ago I brought a worm someplace with me so I could examine it as we drove, much to Joey’s chagrin. (Somehow he’s not as taken with oozy creatures as I am.) But he can kill all the bugs inside our house he wants to, because he’s the bravest man ever.