When I was six my dad's job transferred him to Venezuela. We lived there for five years.
When I was eight or nine years old, I was in a play group; once a week our moms dropped us off at someone's house for the afternoon.
One day we saw an iguana on the branch of a tall tree. I hated iguanas, and apparently so did the other three kids in the play group. I don't know whose idea it was, but we started throwing rocks at it until it fell from the tree, about 20 feet and landed on the curb of the street below.
We ran up close to see it. The beast was severely injured by the fall. It was frightened, suffering yet still trying to survive, to escape. We threw more rocks at it until we had killed it. I saw it there, dead, ugly, broken and twisted, and my life changed.
There is a certain beauty, a certain light that all creatures possess. That day four stupid kids stole that beauty from one creature and made the world an uglier place. So when you ask me to kill that spider or bee, don't complain when I simply catch it and throw it outside. A spider may seem like such a little thing, but I can see how it shines and it is beautiful in its sphere. I hope I can teach you how to see the glory of life so you don't have to learn it like I did.
-- For my son