During yesterday’s slugfari, I came across this little guy in the middle of the path nibbling on a seed.
A boisterous pack of dogs and people quickly approached behind me. Behind them the sound of a gardener’s leaf blower got louder and louder as it came closer and closer.
“Think fast!” I shouted to myself. I looked down at the little fellow. “I’ve got to get you out of danger.”
I dug into my pocket, pulled out a latex glove (the sort used for food prep) and struggled to put it on. (Yes, I am prissy about picking up slugs with my bare hands.)
You know how when you’re in a hurry time slows down? The stupid glove wouldn’t go on. I tugged and squirmed. The sound of crunching footsteps getting louder and louder. I stretched the glove over my fingers. Argh! It stuck halfway on. Then, snap, it slipped over my fingers.
I bend down, picked up the slug and ran to the side of the path. As I gently placed him on a clump of moss, the thundering feet and paws stomped over his former resting place. Disaster averted!