It should come as no surprise to anyone following this blog that Kayla, the
nearly legless hermit crab, is dead. I did what I could (which wasn’t much), but I couldn’t save her.
I delivered the news as kindly (but directly) as I could and did my best not to appear flabbergasted when my girls were surprised by it. The crab was literally falling apart in front of their eyes, and they believed all could still be well. This is a testament either to the optimism of youth or to their blessed lives. Maybe both.
As expected, they cried. Sarah cried during Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium
when the sock monkey reaches for a hug and doesn’t get one. We had to stop the movie. Because a stuffed animal didn’t get a hug. So it’s no surprise that she went to pieces (no pun intended, Kayla, wherever you are!).
Grace, being a sophisticated almost-ten-year-old, didn’t cry at first but crumpled as soon as her sister left the room. Amid sobs, she asked if we should have piped the sounds of the ocean into Kayla’s little house, if that would have made the difference.
We buried Kayla where the dogs can’t get to her. A stone inscribed with her name marks her resting place.
I hate to see my babies sad, but I won’t miss Kayla. She never did much of anything. Her presence gave me yet another thing to clean. Also, she smelled.
So far I am holding firm on not getting any more pets in cages. I do not believe this makes me a bad person. I have no interest in housing a poop collection apparatus that I am responsible for de-pooping.
Also there is the matter of not wanting to cage a creature that would be happier in the open. I’m not kidding; caged animals make me sad. Just imagine Kayla scampering on the rocks by the seashore, crawling away from a hungry seagull. No guts, no glory, eh Kayla?
We’ll see how long I stick to my guns. Sarah has already pointed out that kittens don’t live in cages. *sigh*