Dear Diary,

I like animals. What’s not to like, right? I even live with a very large dog called Puppy, who thinks he’s human. Try getting him out of his favourite place on the couch and he’ll growl and give you a look that tells you exactly where he thinks you belong.

That said, he has also gotten me in trouble. Like that time he was accused of impregnating a neighbourhood chihuahua.

But other animals can embarrass you in bigger ways. Take, for instance, a spider. A guy runs into a cobweb, and looking at him from a distance, all you see is someone suddenly flipping out and waving his arms around as if fighting invisible forces. Even worse is a bee. Nothing in sight but a grown man running around and swatting at empty air.

In the first scenario, that guy who runs into a cobweb is me at the Arboretum. For whatever confounded reason, my nature-loving date has decided that a picnic in the woods is the best idea for a first date.

“Nature can tell you so much,” she said in the way of the most useless explanation, and I dared not explore further.

Now as I walk towards her, so embarrassed that if I was light-skinned my cheeks would be red, I wonder what she thinks of the guy pin-wheeling his arms a hundred metres away from her.

“Sorry about that,” I offer as we share a light hug. “Spiders, right?”

You should see the look on her face. “You had a spider on you?”

“Oh, no. No, no. I ran into a web. It was all over my face.” Contrary to my expectations, I don’t see any relief on her face. “It’s okay,” I continue. “I’m alright now.”

“You might be,” she says, still dejected, “but how about the spider?”

“Are you serious? You’re worried about the spider?”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be. After all, you only messed with its source of food. Now we have to sit and eat while a spider is starving to death.”

Seriously?

“You do know they can make another web, right?” I ask.

“I do know that. You know what else I know? They need to be nourished to make webs. Who knows the last time that spider ate? Maybe she had strength for only that one web. But it’s okay. We are apex predators. Why should we worry about such creatures so low in the food chain? Let’s get to our lunch.”

Unfortunately, my appetite is already spoilt. I mean, how can I eat now with the knowledge that I just ruined another animal’s lunch? Even hoping that the spider has strength to weave another web isn’t helping at all.

“You really do care about animals,” I tell her.

“Just as much as everyone else, I guess. But I make it a point to include them in my prayers every day.”

I almost choke on a grape. “You pray for animals?”

“They can’t do it themselves, now, can they? Besides, who knows how many poor creatures I trample on every day without my knowledge. Ants, caterpillars, spiders… I have to ask for forgiveness for their murder. Don’t you?”

“Frankly, I’ve never thought of it. But I’ll keep it in mind from now on.”

Surprisingly, the next few minutes of our date go quite well, until I notice an ant creeping on a pineapple dish. Instinctively, I swat at it and brush the dead pest off.

“That’s it!” She stands up and begins packing.

End of date.