How to Bury a Loved One

There comes a time when all hermit crabs must crawl down that long beach where the sun never sets. That day came too soon for Potato, Emmett's beloved new pet. Potato and two friends came to us from Sue's Zoo, a local shop where we also purchased Fiona's guinea pigs. We're not sure what happened to this young crab. He had sufficient water and food, his tank was clean, and he had adequate opportunity for exercise. But today, when Shirra went to check in on him, he was not moving. For those of you who know hermit crabs, this lack of movement may not seem unusual, but this little fella was unusually lacking in movement.

Considering their general, well, hermetic existence, I was surprised at Emmett's reaction to the death of Potato. He immediately burst into sobs and tears. He never cuddled with his crabs, and he rarely touched them, but clearly they have made an impression on him (and in him, once, when he tried to pick one of them up). And somehow this cute crab's shell seemed cutest of them all, its tan swirls vaguely reminiscent of latte or, in the uncaffeinated eyes of a seven-year-old, a potato. When his sobbing had subsided somewhat, Emmett acknowledged that he would indeed like to replace his lost crab as soon as possible, and he mentioned a crustacean that had tickled his fancy a few weeks ago in the shop. Potato is dead. Long live Tiger.

Emmett wanted to give Potato a proper internment, but digging in the shale around here is quite dicey, so even after a few minutes I'd only made a small dent in the dirt. With Potato resting comfortably on his bed of earth and grass, we buried the little critter about 6 inches deep. For a headstone, Emmett scratched Potato's name and the date onto a large piece of shale and placed it beside the grave.

I wish I could take back one moment from today. That's when I ordered a sidedish for my veggie burger. Eschewing the salad, I asked the waiter for a mashed potato. Emmett had to excuse himself from the table to cry in the bathroom, and I didn't even realize what I'd done till Shirra told me an hour later. There are few boys as sensitive as my little sweetheart.