F you Fuzzy Wuzzy! F YOU.

I had no idea how much poop a caterpillar could generate. It makes a rabbit look like it's constipated.

So, yes. I had my brilliant idea yesterday of popping a caterpillar Mort found into his bug container. It seemed like a thing one does with her son. Except Mort really really likes Fuzzy Wuzzy. And has deemed him his new best friend. And he talks to the thing like it's Stella. I overheard him explaining stuff to the caterpillar. He told him he would really like our friends because "they're really nice and really funny." He takes it places with us. And he admonishes the caterpillar to be on his best behavior.

"What are we going to do with that thing?" Duke asked.

"I'm thinking a re-release into the wild tomorrow is a good idea," I replied.

"Yeah. I thought that too. Until I broached the idea with Mort and he said we should absolutely release Fuzzy Wuzzy. After he turns into a butterfly."

Shit.

If Mort didn't speak so nicely with that little bug and didn't make a sign for his bug carrier bearing Fuzzy Wuzzy's name and if he didn't love the damn thing so much and we didn't love Mort so damn much, I wouldn't have a fricking caterpillar in my house.

So, last night I looked up how one cares for a caterpillar. That's right. We've got a new pet until spring.

Apparently Fuzzy Wuzzy will require fresh grass every day. Hence my soaking wet socks as I hobbled around in the frost filled yard trying to get Fuzzy Wuzzy's ration for the morning. It will need sticks on which to crawl and later make a chrysalis. It will need to be tricked into hibernation by storing it in the garage. It will need a glass jar with holes punched in the lid.

And since I haven't had an ice pick since I used it to pierce my nose, ear, and belly button, I tried to punch holes in the lid with: a knife. a corkscrew. A bottle opener. And finally under Duke's suggestion, a hammer and nail. Sure.

And then came time to move Fuzzy Wuzzy from his bug habitat into his new glass home. I feng shuied the sticks and grass and it was time. Except that when I opened the door to the bug house, black something smeared across the wood. Of course I screamed because i thought it was Fuzzy Wuzzy's gross little head. Duke yelled down to ask if I was okay. I yelled back NO as I think I just killed Fuzzy Wuzzy. However, apparently it was just more caterpillar poop. Oh. My. God.

By then I was thoroughly disgusted and done being a cool mom and asked Duke to handle it. However, Fuzzy Wuzzy apparently really likes his bug habitat. And he refused to budge. We tried shaking him out. We tried poking him out. We tried bonking him out. Fuzzy Wuzzy would not be evicted. He was holding a sit-in and was waiting for a return call from his lawyer. He would not curl up into a ball and practice passive resistance. He was holding a sign that read "Hell no, we won't go." He held onto the screen in his habitat with all 13 sets of his grossy insect legs. (No, I have no idea how many sets of legs he has. Nor do I care.) What did come out of his bug habitat was poop. Lots and lots of poop. (Care to wager how many times I have washed that are with bleach since this incident?)

Apparently when you make a bug habitat at Home Depot, you are really making a more attractive roach motel. They go in, but they don't come out. So we got out scissors. And we cut open the netting. And that mofo caterpillar walked himself on out the front door of the bug carrier. Now I'm going to have to explain to Mort why we destroyed the netting. Let's just say Fuzzy Wuzzy will be receiving the full blame.

I feel like the entire house smells of caterpillar poop.