Note from Madam Brattex
As I've mentioned several times on my blog, I really love God's creatures. I know many women who hunt (shoot the big five etc) for sport. I know of fanatical gardeners who walk around with a bucket of boiling water, and toss in live snails to get rid of the pests who eat their flowers. My mother- in-law sets rat traps, and my own mother apparently once clubbed several frogs to death. (They had taken up residence in the wood pile next to the fire place in the living room.) Please don't get me wrong. I judge not. It's just that apart from using fly and mozzie spray, I really have a problem with killing things. I once boiled an egg for Anna, only to realize when I cracked it open that I'd boiled a baby chicken. OOPS! I almost fainted. I also ran over my beloved Daxi, and broke her leg. Accidents happen, but nothing has ever affected me quite the way the goldfish incidence did. It just seemed such a cruel way for something to die. I don't think it's a pretty story or even an interesting story, but I wanted to tell it anyway.