Sometimes when you try to help someone, you don't. And sometimes when you're a kid, you make bad choices. Example:
Years ago, my brother Bret and I were on vacation with our family in Southeastern Iowa. Our great aunt had a big, two-story farm house with a pool. One dark night, Bret and I stepped out of the Alf-themed kids' guestroom onto a balcony. The wood balcony was wet and we were barefoot. While standing there, I was startled by something small and wet that landed on my foot. It was a frog. As I picked it up, we both got a glint of excitement in our eyes. What do frogs like to do? Swim, of course. Where could he swim? In the pool. It's right there! Without thinking much more, I shouted, "Be free frog! Fly!" and threw the frog in a shallow arc down to the pool. We shouted with excitement, but fell silent at the sickening smack of the frog hitting the pavement, one foot short. Maybe he was better off; the chlorine bath he was about to receive may have done him worse. (Here I am assuming that all frogs are boys. However, some West African frogs are known to spontaneously change from male to female in a single sex environment. They even made a movie about it.) We stood their in silence. The sickness of that smack stuck with us. We went back into our Alf-themed room and shut the door. Don't know if he survived, but my best guess is that he's hopping on St. Peter's feet now. Poor little guy.