Yesterday, when I went outside, I noticed a shell on the sidewalk in front of my house. I wondered what it was doing there. Upon closer inspection, I saw that there was a creature in that shell. A hermit crab. I had no idea what it was doing there, but I knew that it was going to be fried sitting on that hot concrete. (It's been at least 90 degrees Fahrenheit every day this week.)
So I rescued it. I moved it to a spot under a shady tree. Then I went in the house to find a shell. Shells make good water vessels. The crab definitely needed some water. I filled it with water and put it near the crab, which was still tightly curled in its shell. I wondered what else I could do to help it. I had the brilliant idea to cool it off with a little water sprinkle from the hose. It had to be roasting in that hot shell! That's what I did.
Then my daughter came outside. "Mom, what are you doing?"
"Rescuing a crab."
She gave me a funny look. "Did you remember you had dinner cooking on the stove?"
Oh, right. I almost forgot about that.
She stooped down and picked up the crab. "Mom, this thing is dead!"
"Is not!" I said.
"Yes, it is. And the house is going to burn down while you save a dead crab!"
(FYI: The house is still standing, and the food did not burn. But the crab. He might be dead. He hasn't moved a bit. So, yes, I may have been trying to rescue a dead crab. Time will tell. If he falls out of his shell, we'll know for sure.)