I keep the slugs off the hydrangeas, but otherwise, I let them roam and munch. Plenty of green for them to fill their bellies.
Now and again I find a slug in the house, usually because the animals all gather round to gawk.
Sadie, “Is it food?” *sniff-sniff* “Is it?”
Cletus, “It’s a toy,” *sniff-sniff* “Isn’t it?”
Catticus, “I’m scared, Clara. What if it eats kibble? Kill it, Clara, please.”
Clara, “It’s too slow to be dangerous. Let’s see if the dog eats it.”
Anyway, I’m slug-friendly.
This time of year, the slugs are…amorous.
First I wondered if the one slug was in hot pursuit of the other slug, and then I thought maybe the slug at the top was in hot pursuit of the cord above it. You know, like maybe Top Slug actually thought the cord was a super foxy long and skinny slug and it wanted to get some of that.
This is what it’s like in my brain. I am the kind of person who questions the sexual motives of slugs. If that’s not awkward, I don’t know what is.
If you don’t know anything about the mating habits of slugs, I encourage you to Google that, because it is unlikely you would enjoy reading my explanation about gooey blue penises protruding, spinnin round like a twisty cone, and fallin off, which I think is a benefit to you reading me instead of listening to me, because I am so totally the kind of person who would talka you about gooey blue slug penises.
SoCS ‘awkward’ is brought to you by, well, today, me. And always LindaGHill