We found a butterfly with a broken wing in the backyard. I think the dogs might have contributed to its brokenness....not sure, just saying.... they had a guilty look about them when I went outside.
So Gus made it his pet and placed it in a plant we keep on the back deck to see if it would get better.
Gus was obsessed with it- as he is with all things insect- and wanted to name him George, and hug him and pet him and squeeze him and rub him and stroke his antenna and rub his pretty wings...It's hard to believe, but the butterfly didn't make it. So it goes.
1 comment:
The older he gets, the more he looks like you. By the way, both my boys have the shirt he wearing.
Post a Comment