Survivor Cricket - Day 68

I first saw him first sitting on the dinghy transom about half way to Isle of Palms. He was holding fast despite the wind and the splash and rode it out all the way to the fuel dock. I'm not sure how he got on the dinghy in the first place - I'm presuming he's been there since last Friday when I, Artful and the dinghy got blown way too close to the salt marsh by a surprise 70 mph gust. When your grassy hillock is being flooded out I'm sure a rubber boat seems like a step up in the world. So I filled my ever emptying gas cans and asked very politely if I could leave the dinghy tied up while I spent more money. But of course, was the equally polite answer. 45 minutes later the cricket was still there waving his antennae at me. Of course. Not all that much of interest to him in the marina. So back we went. Even sloppier now loaded with fuel, groceries and adult beverages. But he hung on. A few times I thought I'd lost him, but he always managed to duck the splash. This guy is a survivor. Add to that he was missing a leg. Not uncommon for crickets by the way. They get caught, the sacrifice a limb in order to live another day. So my mind was made up. I got back to the boat and took Mr. Cricket with me in a plastic cup. Crickets are omnivores so he could theoretically have lived out his days on Artful. But I decided his chances were better where he undoubtedly came from. So off we went in the dinghy, following one of the little creeks (amazingly deep) until we got to a hillock with enough bramble that I knew it wouldn't be completely submerged when the tide came in. Clearly he was back in his element. Missing leg and all he hopped off with renewed energy and maybe confidence. If you're asking yourself why? - the simple answer is, why not? Anything beyond that I can mostly tell only in music.