• His smooth, wet skin felt cool to the touch of my tiny fingers. I hold him, oh so delicately, careful not to disturb his tiny beating heart. Through the soft marsh mud I stomp, my bright yellow rain boots, reflect the warm rays of the mid-day sun. Such happiness fills my childish head, the thought of playing with my new found friend. I stop to rest on the sticky stump of the old maple, as my slippery companion tries to wiggle away.

    “Don’t you want to play?” I whisper, puzzled at his unease.

    The tiny creature stares up at me with his deep golden eyes. His stare speaks to me, words that are better left unspoken.

    “Home,” he seems to cry out, “Home,”

    Sadly, I set him down, ashamed at my own selfishness. He lets me stroke him one last time, for which I am grateful.

    “This is my home too,” I call out to him, as he hops away, “and you are still my friend.”
    Such a simple farewell, but my meaning is obvious.

    We are all part of this world, equal in worth, though not in size. Not master and servant, not owner and beast, but friend and friend.