The ladybug who had begun to visit me at dinnertime and ate the piece of potato I offered and then did not show up for several days and I was worried that it was ‘something she ate’;  the ladybug for whom I Googled and found out that if a ladybug hatches in your home and you want to keep it alive and well until released outdoors in the spring, the food of choice is aphids, second choice soaked raisins;  the ladybug who did not show up for this more suitable food:  that ladybug!  Well, listen to this.

A few evenings  ago I turned off the computer and stood up to walk out of the room.  I chanced to look down and noticed a  dark spot on the floor which, in the dim light, I thought was a piece of mud that had come off my shoe as I came into the room because it was exactly where I would have stepped as I came into the room.  I picked it up carefully – not wanting the lump to crumble into crumbles of dirt – and discovered it was a ladybug.

I took it into the kitchen and looked at it under the light.  It did not move or respond to my attention – no, not CPR: gentle pats.  I had cleared away the raisins and wet cloth days before when ladybug had not returned but got out the glass plate again and put the ‘corpse’ on it, on the table, thinking to have not exactly a funeral the next day but some sort of memorial: maybe bury the ladybug who had shared my dinnertime in the scented geranium pot by the door looking out onto the deck.  I marvelled at how it had appeared in my path, so to speak, and that I had not trod on it and crushed it; wondered if it had been on the ceiling and fallen just then.  I acknowledged the loss.

Next morning – the plate was empty!  I now know ladybugs are either very sound sleepers or they do mini hibernations.  As I picked up the plate I discovered the ladybug had crawled over the rim and was on the underside.  Well.  I soaked some more raisins,  wet another piece of paper towel, put the raisins on the plate, nudged the ladybug along to the food.  Well, again!  She perked up immediately,  climbed onto one of the raisins, latched on and, unless she flies around at night or when I am away from the house and returns to the exact same spot – she has not moved since.