A Suicidal Snail

I was witness this morning to a suicidal snail who slithered a considerable distance over the patio to this drain where it balanced precariously threatening to plunge 2 feet into the murky water below.
In true Dunkirk spirit, I attempted to rescue it from a watery grave, but its sucker strength was greater than I expected and as I was in no mood to prise its body off other than by its shell, I left it to whatever fate awaited. I hope it saw the folly of the situation and slithered back to safety. There is no Samaritan number for snails.

My kind heartedness towards snails is a new phenomenon now that I have little greenery or flowers for them to decimate. I remember with something akin to remorse my dealings with them in the old castle garden which boasted an area of ground called the 'killing fields' where the hermaphrodites were disposed of.
In the event of feeling generous, despite the damage they caused, they would be bagged and set free on Blackford Hill, considering it a kind of Elysian Fields for them.