MY BATHROOM COMPANION 

Every time I walk into my bathroom, she is there waiting for me in one of her many shapes.

Sometimes she is small and comma-shaped; sometimes she is larger and round; sometimes she is long and stretched out.

Sometimes she runs away; always she is alone.

I call her "Cookie."

Cookie lives under the molding circling the bathroom, and comes out when she hears me, but not before she assumes the shape of the day. 

Have you ever opened a book and found that some insect has had a meal of your favorite pages?  That hungry insect is called a silverfish.  I believe that Cookie is a relative called a firebrat.

Like you, I don't like to have little insects living in my house; but being a reformed Quaker and a Buddha lover, I cherish all life forms and would never squash a living creature.  Instead, I scoop up the scary spiders and such, and throw them outside where they can make a new home with Mother Nature.

Cookie is not scary, and her interesting actions are not a threat, so why should I throw her out into the cold where she would probably be quickly gobbled up by a bluejay?

Does Cookie have a brain? Do all creatures have a brain? Even Chesapeake Bay crabs?  If so, are their brains active as we throw them into that pot of boiling water?  Do we even consider their sentient background when we chow down on those delicious Old Bay enhanced cooked crabs?

And, what about lobsters and clams?  (And cows and pigs?)

I often think of an Asimov or Sturgeon science fiction story that postulated that our Earth is a breeding area, designed to be a background food source called Humans, to be available for hungry aliens when their current food supply dries up.

ENOUGH!

(I'll tell Cookie we were thinking about her.)

.........................................................................

Go and enjoy those crabs!