Saving our lives

Swimming in the family pool turns out to be a savior.

Even before entering the water, Eden notices a waterlogged mouse on the tile bridge. She squeals, horrified at the thought of sharing a tub with a mouse.

I wonder if it’s alive, set out a pool cleaner’s net just in case, and prod the little guy, who crawls into the blue mesh bag.

I swing the long pole around to the hedge, where he revives quickly — more alive than dead — hopping off into the bushes.

At the end of our first lap, Eden cries out, “A frog!” And indeed, a small, grey and brown frog peeps out from the pool-filling pipe. Eden continues yelping as she escapes to shallower waters. I swim over and inspect the little guy, who observes me, before disappearing into the depths of the pipe.

A short moment later, he appears again, this time on the blue tile beneath the coping, holding onto the increasingly slippery vertical, as the waves of our previous activity churn around him. So I hop out, again handling the pool cleaner’s net, scooping him off the tile and into the bag, from which he or she emerges with a grateful, outstretched hand to the ground that surrounds the pool.

Is this how we save nature; or is this how we save each other?