Animal Obituaries

I just finished reading one of the best books I've ever read, Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri. She received the Pulitzer Prize for this book of short stories, so I guess I'm stating the obvious by saying that it was good; she doesn't really need my endorsement. With my newly reduced work schedule I can do things like read. I've read more books in the past couple of months than in the past 10 years. Anyway, because her prose was so haunting and poetic and touched me so deeply, it's making me want to exercise my literary muscles. Rather than struggle to come up with new material, I'm pulling from my stock pile of old stuff...

September 11, 2005

"I loved him. He was my best friend!" The first time we heard this sentiment it was at the untimely demise of a tick that had been extracted from our eldest son's scalp. His younger brother was mourning the loss of the first family pet. His brother had fed that tick and nurtured it with his own blood. As the tick circled the dark watery tunnel of the commode, we bade him farewell. And then he was gone. Our middle son knew he'd never find another friend quite like this tick, a blood brother in the truest sense of the word. We prayed for the tick, thanked Jesus for the tick's presence in our lives, we told stories of how the tick would be happily reunited with it's mother and father and all of its tick siblings. Nothing could console our middle son. Something special happened that day between that tick and our middle son. A bond was formed and our 2 year old son was forever changed (or, even though he wasn't the one with the blood sucking tick-he was manifesting early symptoms of Lyme's disease).

Recently our middle son found a grub worm in the back yard. This was his new best friend. No matter that he had caused a near fatal crush injury to its dorsal half. His soul mate had been resurrected in the form of the common grub worm. As he rushed to show me his new discovery, I could see the joy in his eyes and his plans for their future together; They would take up residence together. Our middle son in his bed and the grub worm in a plastic cup sitting on his shelf above him. The worm would accompany our son to bath time, ride shotgun next to his carseat in the minivan. They'd be together forever, or at least until his dessicated carcass found its way to the dustpan and out to Monday morning trash pick-up. Our son eagerly waited to show his father his new invertebrate friend. His father was not keen to give free room and board to the grub worm and obviously was oblivious to the complexity of their, middle son and worm's, relationship. Lee had no compassion towards displaced grubworms, but acquiesed and allowed the worm to reside in a non-disposable drinking cup. He even put some water in the cup, at our son's request. As middle son ran across the yard to show his new worm habitat to his brother and sister, the worm was catapulted out of his new home. Just like that, in the flash of a moment, life was forever changed and the grub worm was gone. This time, middle son was able to reach deep within himself and pull through, launching the cup full of water, the former worm abode, into the air and baptizing his brother and sister.

This past Friday the kids and I drove north of town to an orchard. Lee was at home with a bad case of the shits that he had acquired subsequent to helping Hurricane Katrina evacuees. Along with Toby, a yellow lab, and a flock of guineas, we were the only people at the orchard. Before we could pick persimons and jujube's, my oldest son insisted on discussing a dog's life span and the neutrality of Toby's gender based on his lack of testicles. Finally his mind was able to wrap around the concept of involuntary emasculinization and we set out to harvest bounty. After about 15 minutes of intense gathering, it was time to break for lunch. While eating, a hummingbird landed near where we sat for our picnic. The bird was not quick enough to escape Toby and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to instruct the kids on the theory of 'Survival of the Fittest'. In the best Marlon Perkins voice I could muster I began my narration, "Watch children as the dog grips the bird in his teeth. See the bird's fragile bones shatter in the dog's teeth." Just before, "Look at how the bird glides down the dog's throat", in a miraculous twist of fate, the bird hopped out of Toby's mouth and onto a plastic chair. While the oldest son, youngest daughter and I went to go shake more jujubes out of the trees, middle son decided he needed to stand vigil at the bird's side. Daughter was scared to death of the dog. She knew that after all those years on a chain with those guineas just beyond his reach, Toby had finally tasted blood and if you put a few feathers on her, she might well be a guinea in the dog's mind. As middle son stood shiva, he decided to construct an altar for the bird; 2 towels were wrapped around it. But this configuration was not quite sacred enough, a 3rd towel needed to be draped on top of the bird and pressure, ever so slight, needed to be applied to the bird. As the bird entered into its afterlife (with middle son's assistance), daughter, believing the supernatural to be possible, lifted the bird by its bloody wings in the hope that it would take flight. And we all appreciated the moment for bringing new meaning and clarity to the circle of life."

This reminds me of the most recent loss in our household...Dottie...she was a victim of the aftermath of Hurricane Ike. Dottie had been left in the care of my husband while the kids and I headed out of town after the storm. My mother in law offered to house the mouse in our evacuation (and we did have an emergency mouse evacuation plan-she was to be loaded up into a tupperwear container with holes), but since the urgency of the moment had passed and truthfully, because 3 kids, a dog and a mouse for 5 hours in the car was more than I could handle, I opted to leave the mouse in the capable hands of my husband. The day that we are to return home he calls and says, "You're never gonna believe this (when ever anyone starts a statement like this, you know they are lying about something), but when I went to check on Dottie this morning, she was stiff as a board. She was fine just yesterday. I don't know what happened. I fed her and gave her water." Long story short, a replacement mouse was purchased before we returned home. The replacement mouse was a male and smelled like urine and had red eyes (original Dottie had black eyes), but the kids didn't seem to notice. Dottie #2 lasted a day and a half before my daughter assasinated her. If it is possible to be stunned to death, this is how Dottie #2 came to his demise. Either that or it was a crush injury (inside the vise grip of a 4 year old girl's hand). Upon learning that Dottie #2 (which the kids still thought was Dottie #1) was dead and gone, there was a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Misery. That pretty sums up the collective emotion. Or maybe it was heartache. Much time was spent eulogizing Dottie. Sometimes something will happen and all of the sudden Dottie will be remembered, "I remember when Dottie used to eat her food" or "I remember when Dottie used to sleep in her plastic cup" or everyone's favorite memory, "I remember when Dottie used to run on her wheel". Such bittersweet memories...all the more precious now that we have 2 new mice, Piggy and Snowflake.