Another Monday at work. Another day of making very little progress toward life-enhancing changes.

When I got home I found the baby gecko who had been living and growing in the kitchen for the past few weeks dead on the floor. He was intact, so I don’t think the cats got him. He wasn’t squished, so I don’t think I (or other household members) accidentally stepped on him. I suspect, from his location, that he got into one of the toxic roach traps and either ingested the roach poison or ate ants that had eaten poison.

I had been feeding the little guy ants whenever I saw him.  He also seemed to like bananas and spilled soda pop. He was becoming very tame, and seemed almost like he expected to be fed whenever he saw a person approaching. I  feel like I murdered a pet.

Granted, I did not put out the roach baits. Nor, however, did I protest or move the roach baits. If nothing else, I am guilty through inaction and negligence.

And I feel so sad I want to cry.