tent caterpillars

Brianna found a tent caterpillar today. It was a large vigorous one. I figured that if she didn't mess with it too much, we could keep it and see if it formed into a pupa and then turn into the lowly moth it was destined to become. If she didn't mess with it too much. But those fuzzy little bodies are just too much fun to play with. And no matter how much the little guy ran to escape, he was always found, retrieved, plucked from carpet with dextrous little fingers. We left him alone in a box while taking our old cat to the vet. Goby had lost some weight, but he is still not close enough to death to consider euthanasia, although we know his time will come relatively soon. Upon return, the caterpillar was again engaged to be the plaything of a fascinated four year old. This time, it pooped. Oh, how that became interesting! The turd was left on the floor for me to come see it. It was every bit what you would expect coming from a caterpillars butt. So I scooped it up to the garbage while Brianna continued messing, giving me some quiet computer time. Is it wrong to let the caterpillar be played with to death for my benefit (and hers)? After all, she was just exploring. And lord knows how many caterpillars, snakes and lizards I ended up killing in the name of playful learning. Anyway, after dinner it was apparent that the caterpillar was doomed, having lost all his former vigor. Brianna responded by slapping at it saying, "Wake up Fuzzy, Wake UP!" It responded by pooping in her hand. She had the innocence to ask, "What is this?" and didn't like my answer. Then she got mad when I explained that fuzzy was going to die. "Fine, take the friggin' thing outside!" But I think she felt guilty. The beginnings of empathy?