Hot Slug

On the way to the shops there was a slug on the pavement, looking rather hot and dry. I don't like slugs at all so I just left it there to shrivel in the sun on the hot concrete.
But it was still there on my way back, neck erect, peering about hopelessly with its eyes on stalks for somewhere cool and damp to crawl to. It had drawn a star-shape on the pavement in slime, as it had tried to head in every direction looking for respite.
I couldn't bear it. I got a leaf from someone's garden and wrapped it up and put it on the soil in the shade.
What a hypocrite: I kill them with horrid poisons when they destroy the garden but I feel for the buggers when they are not in a marauding pack.
Bit like teenagers, I suppose.