I have another confession to make.
Okay, someTHING.
Last night I was walking Apollo, trying to dodge the frog-landmines. A couple of weeks ago, apparently north Florida entered into the season when frogs and toads proliferate. They seem to be nocturnal creatures, so after dark you can usually count five to ten of them just outside your door.
So anyway, I'm walking the dog, kind of shuffling back and forth on my feet impatiently. I slightly lose my balance, take a step and hear...
CRUNCH.
Oh no. I don't see very well in the dark, so I took a closer look at the spot where I had been standing, and I saw a little frog, just sitting there. "Good," I thought. "Maybe he's just in his little frozen defense mechanism mode."
But, alas. His eyes were fixed in a little froggie death stare. I suddenly felt compelled to apologize to the little creature. The weirdo that I am, I wanted him to know that I didn't MEAN to kill him. In fact, I was consciously trying to avoid little guys like him.
I don't know what it is about animals, but stuff like this bothers me. I was depressed all day several months ago when I saw a duck someone had hit with their car at my apartment complex. I saw a dead male cardinal (the bird, not the priest) on my way to work today. I cannot stand stories of lost pets. It seriously gets to me.
So, I guess I'm a bad person. I killed Kermit. I just had to confess.