You’re kidding! You aren’t?

The truth is…. I don’t like killing bugs, even cockroaches. Yeah, yeah, I know you’re shaking your head in disbelief. And, sometimes, I shake my head in disbelief, too. (I mean, roaches?!)

I’m no fan of welcoming bugs, or mice, into my house – no fan, at all. Yet, I persist in my ethos of not killing the critters. What’s the story? Even I’d like to know more…

Looking back, I cannot remember a time when I wanted to kill bugs during my childhood, even the Texas-sized roaches (well, they were Texas roaches) which bordered on being nightmare-worthy. (Isn’t that the role mothers’ play when we scream for help?) You’re probably asking what I do instead of killing bugs. Over the years, this non-geek, who has little or no technological bent (I mean, seriously!) has crafted multiple ways to catch those critters and ferry them outside. And feel good about doing so.

But why? Why don’t I want to kill bugs if I can possibly avoid doing so? Note, however, I said “possibly avoid.” Truthiness. Late at night, when I’m tired, if I spy an intruding roach (a word that actually gives me the willies) I make a beeline for the vacuum cleaner. Sigh. And you can guess what transpires next. Flying in the face of my non-killing bug ethos, well, I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. Ah, imperfection…

Returning to my buggie odyssey, why the heck (except really late at night) do I experience reluctance to kill creepy-crawlies? Oh wait, oh wait, insight abounds! I’ve also just realized I feel terrible when accidentally abusing, or killing, a plant by forgetting to water it. There’s clearly a trend here…

Perhaps I shouldn’t have let the cat out of the bag by sharing my protective proclivities with you. Oh, jeez, and now the very mention of cats…Cats, dogs, wildlife, oooo, turtles especially, even snakes, I’m a fairly protective camper regarding their existence. And, during my many years in North Carolina, if I say so myself, I’ve gotten pretty good at wrangling those large, 4-legged, armored tanks, AKA snapping turtles, off the middle of the roads they’re hogging. (If you’re interested in my technique, let me know! I’m pretty proud of it!😉)

I’m backtracking. I began this post in search of my underlying reasons for (oh, no!) not wishing, on the whole, to kill bugs. And instead, I’ve ended up cataloging a cornucopia of all my other non-harming passions. Am I eliciting a veritable laundry list, depending on who’s reading this, of your possible responses such as “is Jan weird, or what?!” or “hmmm, I need to think about this?”

Whatever.

And to cap off, shall we say, this intriguing odyssey, I’m also throwing in a bit of Walt Whitman for some needed light here. “I am large, I contain multitudes.” (Thanks Walt.) Yes, that would be me. Me and the multitudes of bugs and other, sometimes, unwelcome critters that inhabit my universe and with whom I choose to actively seek coexistence. (Mostly.) Ok, Ok, just come out and call me a critter-carer. As that old comic book icon, Popeye, the Sailor Man, said “I yam what I yam and that's all what I yam.”