Each morning, as I walk into work, I have to dodge snails as they slowly move across the stone block path toward the greenery that flanks the patio.\u00a0 I'll admit that I used to find them an annoyance. Many of them would meet an unfortunate end, crushed \u2013 accidentally, I hope \u2013 by other passers-by. I, too, have committed an involuntary molluscicide. The sound of my victim\u2019s little shell crushing under my foot horrified me.\u00a0 From that moment forward, I felt compelled to \u2018rescue\u2019 snails when I passed them.\u00a0 I gingerly pick them up and move them to a safe space among the trees and grass. I told my husband about my snail rescue efforts and he thought it was hilarious. Although he found it \u2018cute\u2019, he joked that by picking them up I might actually be delaying their arrival at their desired destination by making them start over, rather than helping. Just last week I saw the tiniest snail I\u2019d ever seen and I just had to snap a picture. My co-worker aptly named him George when I showed her.\u00a0 I told her about my mollusk saving mission and, instead of thinking me weird, told me that she does the very same thing from time to time. I hate most things creepy-crawly, but for some reason, these little guys don\u2019t fit into that category.\u00a0 Maybe it\u2019s that I find their tiny shells beautiful, or maybe it\u2019s because I tend to root for the underdog\u2014slow and steady wins the race. It seems that I now see George most mornings, and each time I smile.