"It's survival of the fishest" - Younger Son

On my morning open-the-windows route around the house, I noticed the cat perched in an odd place.
He had his back to the livingroom and was staring into the corner.
Like he was stalking something.  Had it cornered.

"You got a bug over there?" I asked him.  "Whatcha got?"

As I neared, it looked like a leaf had fallen from a houseplant.
Long and oval-like.

And then it twitched.
And breathed.

My response was immediate!
I yelled, "No!  No!  No!"

I'm not sure if my shouts of denial were related to yet another of Younger Son's fish jumping out of the bowl (or being pushed!) or related to the realization that I'd have to pick it up with my bare hands.

"Suck it up," I told myself.  "It's just like picking up worms."

I brought the fish bowl down from its shelf, gently plucked the fish from the carpet, and dropped him in the water.  He seemed to recover immediately.  After all, he had still been kicking and breathing on the floor when I found him.
We'll see how he feels later.

The cat was a little disappointed, though.