It means something when, as you’re preparing to kill a spider, the first weapon you find at hand is Horton Hears a Who.
Call me a nut, but I don’t believe in the wanton slaughtering of innocent creatures, whatever their size. If there’s an ant in the sink, I rescue it before I turn on the water; if I find a spider in the shower I let it go; if there’s a moth, fly, or even a mosquito flitting through the house, I catch it carefully under a glass and release it outdoors.
Don’t take me for a vegetarian though, I have no qualms in killing to eat. God made us as omnivores, and He well knows I eat like one. Kill an animal, and make good use of its edibility; take its skin or its pelt at the same time, and waste as little as possible. But I do not approve of killing any creature for sport alone, or by utter disregard for its life, or because its bothering you.
So I put down the book and I got out a glass. What was the spider doing to me, after all? Why should I have killed it? Just because it was bugging me? (Come on, you were expecting that pun sooner or later.) I caught it and I let it go.
Because a person’s a person, no matter how small.