I hope and pray that there is a place in heaven [as each of us understands it] where those of us who mourn for animals will be comforted for all eternity by the very creatures, perfected and eternal, whose deaths we grieved here on earth.
added on edit: I don't really know what this story means but all of a sudden I want to share it. Does everyone remember when the 17-year locusts emerged? There were a lot of them in my area, surprisingly, in spite of horrendous amounts of development [trees gone, ground paved]. I'd come to work a little early every morning and go around the building picking the live ones up in the parking lot and tossing them into the air, watching them head off into the trees [small building, small parking lot]. Sometimes they would sit on my hand and buzz before flying off... neat! [they don't bite. they don't sting. they are the ultimate peaceful creature.]
Did the same thing at lunch and at the end of the day before driving home. [Did it at home too.] First day I did it at work, people laughed at me. Second day I did it, people laughed at me. Third day I did it, someone stopped and asked me what I was doing, and then did it on the other side of the building. By the time I'd been at it two weeks, several people were already doing it as I drove in
and people I hardly knew were sharing their daily tallies with me
sometimes, if you're willing to be the first to look ridiculous in order to be humane, you suddenly discover you have a lot of company. I'd like to think that in seventeen years there'll be a bumper crop of Magicicada septemdecens in that town, because of all the mom and dad cicadas that got rescued.
