There was a dead lizard in the bathroom today. In the corner, under the door.
I noticed it because of the ants. The swarms of ants around it, jealously covering it up, wholly devouring it. Climbing on top of each other to get to that dry, white underbelly facing upwards, hungry, red.
I stared at it. I couldn't stop. I stared at it and then I backed out of the loo and tried to avoid looking at it again. Nausea rose at the thought of it lying there, sickening, yellow-green thing, tail a stub, eyes hidden beneath the mound of scavengers cleaning it up.
Why is this important ? There are lizards by the hundreds here, they all have to die sometime, and the ants... i know that this happens. Like when there are dead animals in the road. But it isn't when they're just dead that it's horrible, even though they smell, and shrivel and stiffen in positions of pain. It's when they're crushed, or mutilated in some way that I cringe inside, and shiver and hurt.
Would it be better to die unsullied than to live mutilated ? I think so. But then, I have no experience of dying.