I crunched another one of these guys on our morning walk! I feel TERRIBLE. And the really sad thing is that this little guy was just a few feet away so SO HELP ME GOD if I just slaughtered his mother in plain snail sight - I deserve to be squashed like a grape too. I am now a serial snail killer.
While on our walk Wrigs starts his usual poo walk (sniffs the ground with a hunched back, tail between legs) and then plops himself down on this hill that overlooks the lake. (It's a popular poo spot among the canines). His last few poops have been sort of Milk Dud-like, not very long and firm so today he unloads a giant sized log that looks very healthy and solid. As I bend down to pick it up I say, "Beautiful Poo Wrigley. That's a beautiful poo!" (ok quite honestly, I say this all the time) and as I stand up there's a nice looking older gentleman coming down the hill who smiles and says, "Good Morning." I smile back and say the same but I'm 100% certain he heard me talking about this beautiful mound of shit I'm now carrying in my hand. As Wrigs and I walk away I say (to Wrigs) "You're such a beautiful boo-oy" (purposely trying to make boy sound somewhat similar to poo which really isn't possible) so I ended up sounding like a verbally challenged adult.
Oh well, that's what I get for killing snails.