I still have PTSD from 25 years ago when I killed two snails. I feel terrible about it.
I was on holiday with my first wife in France. We had this beautiful little cottage in the countryside. We went to bed at night and I wanted to close the shutters on the window, so we wouldn't get waken up at the crack of dawn. But I noticed two large snails sitting on the windowsill outside.
They would be crushed if I closed the shutters. So I did this trick I learnt where I tapped on their shells with the tip of my finger. That tricked them into retreating into the shell. Then I gently applied force to get them off, waiting till they released themselves as to not hurt them.
I set them down on the side, waiting for them to get a grip. Once they were firmly in place I let go and checked they were doing alright. They started crawling away and I was satisfied I could safely close the shutters without harming them. After having done so, I got a good night sleep, perhaps the last good night sleep for the rest of my life.
The next morning I went to open the shutters, to let in the light and some fresh morning air. As I opened the shutters I heard this terrible crunching sound. I was absolutely shocked and my wife put her hand in front of her mouth, pointed at me and yelled: "SNAIL KILLER!". As I slowly opened the shutters I found that indeed the snails had crawled back to a place in front of the shutters. As I opened the shutters, the snails were completely crushed leaving nothing but a sad pile of sadness.
Obviously I didn't close the shutters for the rest of the stay. I still feel terrible to this day I failed my small fragile gooey friends. I try to make my garden as inviting as possible for all kinds of animals. And I don't get a lot of snails, but there are a lot of other small and large critters. The God of Snails probably warns them to stay away, which is understandable.
I'm sorry snail friends, I'll do better in the future.
Even her neatly folded plaid handkerchiefs.