Her little sixteen legs were beating the air but no amount of momentum was enough to turn the beetle upright again. In an hour she would be baked to a crisp by the scorching sun. I was walking my dog Shadow and came upon this tiny intense scene. The beetle was directly in our path on the sidewalk. One way of resolving her predicament would be to crush her underfoot. Instead I bend down to offer the handle of Shadow’s leash. She grasps it with gusto. I’m able to see her back now which is a shiny maroon/black. Shadow and I scoot sideways to a tree surrounded by plants and a foot tall iron fence. It’s an attempt by the city of New York to assure its citizens that they live not by concrete and brick alone. Reaching over the iron railing that embraces the area of vegetation; I shake the handle of the leash back and forth. “Okay, you’re safe now.” I shake it harder. “Okay.” She isn’t listening. I blow on her hoping the force of breath will release her onto the ground. Perhaps this requires more energy and deftness than I possess? I take a leaf and push her backside. She clings to the handle. “I need this leash for my dog!” She isn’t impressed. I push the leaf harder and finally there’s a release of her grip and she falls onto a plant. “There now, you’re safe. God loves you.”
I straighten up to view the neighborhood again. Everything seems different - sort of refreshed. I want to go home but Shadow and I have to keep going around the block for his walk. I want to hurry back to read the transcript of Nancy Grace’s latest show about the Casey Anthony case. This little rescue interlude emphasizes to me that every living being wants to keep on living no matter how tiny. And of course, so do three year old children, like Caylee Marie Anthony. We hear your cries, Caylee, but sadly Shadow and I can’t be of any help.