Who cares about a bug? I found a dying bug on my carpet early one morning. Such a simple thing - a bug; as nearly meaningless as any living thing can be, yet for all my worth as a human being, the very 'pinnacle of creation', I had no power to 'fix' the bug. I can fix a pipe organ, but I could not breathe life back into this insignificant nuisance. I laid the bug on the earth so that it might die close to its own element, going away with an oddly pronounced sense of loss.