Yes, I'm glad you can finally see behind the facade I put up so that when I'm drinking with the Legionaires and Legionettes I can hold my own in machismo. Deep inside I am a sensitive soul, one who cries when he very inadvertently steps upon an ant or sees a dead skunk along the highway. In truth, whenever I see such as thing as the latter, no matter how old it might be I always stop and offer a prayer or two and then, sorrowing, bury it and put a little marker on the grave with a sentiment such as this:

RIP
A Skunk
Loved By Its Family And Friends
Struck Down In Its Prime
By A Careless Driver
"It Lived To A Ripe Age"
Memento Mori.

Every month I have a Requiem Solemn High Mass read for all of the bacteria and others of God's Creatures I may have inadvertently killed. Sure, it's expensive to rent the cathedral, hire the mourners, pay the organist's fees, and find a priest who can say the Mass in Latin, but it's worth it.

I will even stop and water a plant as I walk through a park or in the woods or hills so that it will be assured enough hydration to survive.