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When Miss Dallas was in first grade, I brought her home from after-school care one lovely late spring day. She immediately went for her bike, and unscrewed the top of the water bottle that had come with it attached to the frame. She pulled out a couple deceased fireflies. When I asked her what was going on, she said, "These are my fireflies. I'm going to be a famous firefly collector when I grow up."
"Ummm... hon... those are dead."
"No they're not. They're sleeping. See, I put some grass in with them so they'd have something to eat."
So, monster, your post reminded me of that, and I wondered if there are any clues here for possible hobo treatments.
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