The “Doodlebug Caper”

I was not surprised to see that the “Roly Poly Sandwich Shop” in our town didn’t stay in business very long. With a name like “Roly Poly?” For many people that brings to mind the word “fat,” and in a society with severe phatphobia, few people would have the self-confidence to walk in the door to eat there. “Fat,” however is not the first thought to come to my mind when I think “roly poly.” My first thought when I read the name of that shop was

Yep. Around here, we called any bug like that a “roly poly” because to protect itself, it curls up into itself like an armadillo. When my cats find a roly poly, they love to bat it around on the floor like a tiny ball. Some people call them “pill bugs.” More often I call it a “doodlebug.” My Mamaw called them “sowbugs,” and she despised them. I didn’t understand why until I grew up and had a garden. Those critters crawl onto tiny plants and can devour them overnight!

I don’t like to murder any creature, because I figure that everything has it’s place in this old world. However, as an avid gardener, I had to make a choice. I won’t use insecticides, but I discovered that you can put a jar lid filled with beer in the garden and those bugs will crawl in and drown. At least if I have to kill them they can die happy.

I would never have intentionally killed a doodlebug when I was a child. Y’all may already know that I save helpless creatures, whether they want my help or not. It’s my nature. I save turtles; I save worms. A doodlebug was no exception to the rule.

It always broke my heart to bounce outside in the early morning and find those little doodlebugs flat out on their backs on the sidewalk with their little legs frantically wiggling. They were trying to flip themselves over and couldn’t! I made it my mission every morning to get out there and turn them over so they could crawl away before anybody accidentally crushed them.

My neighbors grew accustomed to the sight of a pigtailed waif squatting on the sidewalk every morning. Barefoot, in shorts but no shirt, I was there every morning saving my friends from an awful fate. Sometimes the doodlebugs were afraid of me and curled up into a ball. Other times, they had been on their backs for so long that their little legs wouldn’t work. I had to drop those into the dewy grass so that they could grasp something and turn themselves over on their own. I was persistent and “saved” every one I could find.

Sometimes, I would find one I especially liked and walk around with him in my hand for hours. My Momma hated that. “Put that #!* X##* filthy thing down and go wash your hands! Those are nasty!” she would shout. I obeyed, but as soon as she turned her back I was at it again.

One morning, after an overnight rain, I went outside to find the sidewalk covered with thousands of stranded doodlebugs. Beside myself with worry for my tiny friends, I had a brilliant idea. I could save them all and they could come and live with me! I dashed to my room, dumped my brand new Buster Brown shoes out of their box, and raced back outside. One by one I plopped the doodlebugs into the box where I thought they belonged.

When I had gathered every one, I slipped back inside and hid the box of doodlebugs in my closet. I was satisfied that now my friends were safe from harm. I went about my business playing all day, and didn’t think more about them.

That evening, when my Momma came home from work, I heard her puttering around in the kitchen. Suddenly, I heard her shriek. She stomped into the hall and screamed some more. In fact, she was going all through the house yelling wordless moans. My Daddy came running in from the back porch and said, “What’s going on?” Momma let out a string of cuss words a mile long and said, “Where did all these #!* X##* doodlebugs come from?!!!”

Gulp! Wide-eyed, I turned and ran for my bedroom closet. The shoe box was empty! All the doodlebugs had crawled away. I was heartbroken that they didn’t want to be my friends.

For weeks after that, Momma fussed about the doodlebugs everywhere. She finally brought in an exterminator to murder all my former friends. Fortunately, she never found out that I was the responsible party.

Years later, I can look back on that day and realize that there are several things the Doodlebug Caper should have taught me:

• Your Momma isn’t going to like all your friends, and there’s not a thing in the world you can do about it.
• Some folks don’t want to be your buddy, and there’s not a thing in the world you can do about it.
• Sometimes, people don’t fit in the “box” where you think they belong, and there’s not a thing in the world you can do about it.

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Tagged as: Critters, life lesson, philosophy