Last night, I found a dead bug in the toilet bowl when I returned home after cycling. I didn't think much of it and simply flushed it away. The night proceeded routinely, and finally, I went to sleep.
In the middle of the night, I woke up from a dream. The dream was still on my mind, so I couldn't fall back asleep. I drank some water and went to the washroom. To my surprise, the bug was still there.
I flushed it again. But this time, I watched the bug go down the drain. Remarkably, it was somehow still there. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that it wasn't dead at all. It was upside down with its wings stuck in the water. I wasn't sure what to do. Then I realized this little creature had been stuck there for about 8-10 hours, struggling to survive, refusing to give up.
Eight to ten hours for a bug is a significant portion of its life, considering most bugs' lifespans are less than a year. In human terms, it would be equivalent to struggling for about a month. I was impressed by its resilience and thought this fighter deserved a second chance.
I went out, picked up a small stick, carefully lifted it out of the water, and placed it at the window—likely the entry point from which it had come. As I was walking away, I heard a gentle thud followed by a buzz.
The bug was lying on the floor, again upside down. Its wings were wet, preventing it from flying. I realized the wings would never dry indoors, and it would never make it out on its own. So, I decided to pick it up and escort it outside. I carried it outdoors only to realize that its wings were still too wet for flight. At that point, I was fully committed to saving this tiny life.
I brought it back inside, placed it on the floor of my hall, turned on the fans and lights, and watched it for a few minutes. It was flapping its wings, slowly moving around, and doing much better than before. Satisfied with its progress, I decided it was time to return to sleep.
As I turned around, I heard a swish. I turned back, and to my confusion, the bug had disappeared. Had it been faking its condition all along? Or had it miraculously recovered? But I hadn't seen it fly away, and there was no obvious exit. Puzzled, I looked around but couldn't find the bug.
What I did find was a gecko. And then it clicked. I wished I was wrong, but there it was—the bug's wings peeking out from the gecko's mouth.
Nature had taken its course. Despite all my efforts to save the bug, it had met its inevitable fate. I'm still not sure how I feel about this incident.