Butterflies are overrated.

Two years ago, we purchased a butterfly garden and a set of caterpillars and watched the process of metamorphosis.  We set them free on a gorgeous spring day - they lingered on our fingertips before taking flight to the nearest flower.  It was magical.

We tried again this year, only the timing wasn't quite right.  Our cat joined the family just days after we'd transferred the chrysalides into the mesh container in which they would emerge and begin their lives as adult butterflies.  The butterflies were fascinating... to the cat.  He knocked over the butterfly garden, thus prompting us to keep them behind closed doors and pretty much out of sight in the laundry room to discourage Zags from ending their already brief period of sojourn on the earth prematurely.   Needless to say, it wasn't the experience for which we had hoped.  After several other failed attempts at keeping the door closed, Zags managed to incapacitate all but two of them.  Setting them free this time meant finding an open tulip in which to place each of them so that they could live out their flightless days with at least some nourishment.  Such is the life of a butterfly.  At least at our house.