Every time we go to the beach I laugh at those families that get suckered into buying their kids a hermit crab.

“Don’t you know how to tell your kids no, you wuss?  Parents like you are the reason kids today think they should get everything they want. Read a parenting book sometime.”

Then we bought not one, but two.

Ugh. My gut said “no” but my family said “you suck mom”. So Ana bought Lily, a feisty little thing that actually had a lot of personality for a crab. And Collin bought Jack who also had a lot of personality until we walked out of the store with him- then he kinda gave up. I’m guessing he was courting us from his cage, the honeymoon must have been on the way to the register, and when the cashier said “that’ll be $24.99”  well…Jack must have considered himself married because he barely moved from his sponge after that.  Such is life.

Anyway, as soon as we were out of the store darling Ana was very, very interested in holding her crab and “loving” it like any careless 3 yr old. We gave the crab two weeks before Ana would ‘love it’ to death. Apparently we gave her too much credit as it only took one week. Though in her defense, I too would have thought that Lily’s shell could protect her from a flight of hardwood stairs. Poor thing. Sadly though she lasted longer than Jack. He died of natural causes 3 days after coming home…or so we hope he was dead…

The Possibly Tragic Story of Jack

It was a sad, dark day when we buried Jack (it was really 87 and sunny). Collin and I said the customary stuff you say about a deceased crab you knew for all of three days and then we promptly went about our lives. However, a week later, after Ana had dropped Lily, I was doing some Google searches: “hermit crab not moving”, “hermit crab looks disorientated”, “irresponsible children”, etc. and came across some articles describing how molting crabs lose their whole exoskeleton and hide deep into their shells for weeks until they harden, surviving from a black bubble of nutrients they develop on their rear (attractive, right?).  uh oh

Me-Umm Brian, did you say Jack’s legs were just laying around the cage?

Brian (watching tv)-Yeah, why?

Me-And you mentioned something about a black liquid?

Brian-Yeah, it was around his shell. (annoyed by my questions because Giada was on)

Me-Did you happen to look deep into his shell?

Brian-Deep into his eyes?

Me-No, his shell.

Brian-Why would anyone do that?

Then I read him the article.He turned Giada off.  Oh crap. Did we bury Jack alive? Dum..dum ..dummm. It was like an episode of Dateline (which Brian is obsessed with watching. So if I disappear check the reruns for possible clues). That night Brian and I couldn’t sleep. Although it had been more than a week, we just had to know. Brian decided he would exhume the body in the morning. It felt like Pet Cemetery.
The next morning I tried to tell him where to look.

Brian-Can you be a little more specific than just pointing into the yard and saying ‘over there’? I don’t know why you won’t just tell me where he’s buried. It’s like you don’t want me to know.

Me-What?

Brian-Why don’t you want me to know where he’s buried?

Me-You think I’m hiding something?

Brian-Yes.

seriously? alright, we’ll play this out…

Me-(I bury my face in my hands) Oh god, I was hoping you would just drop it. But you just won’t give up until you learn the truth, will you? Damn you. Fine. Maybe you should sit down for this.

Brian-Sit down for what?

Me- Alright, I’m just going to say it…he’s alive Brian, Jack’s alive.  Shhh (placing my index finger over his mouth), just hear me out before you judge me. He came to me  late one night, because we’re both nocturnal, and he told me he wanted a chance to start over, to do things right this time. He needed a fresh start and he needed my help. Having made some mistakes myself I understood (Now Brian knows I’m lying because I don’t make mistakes). I had no right to judge. So the next morning I went to Petco and bought him a new shell, a little pink number…still no judgement, handed him a ten dollar bill, and drove him out to the ocean. Unfortunately it wasn’t until after I had thrown him into the water that I remembered he was a land crab. But I’m confident that little son of a bitch is just fine. He’s resourceful and probably buoyant. So there you have it. Happy?

Brian-That’s bullshit

Me-You think?

Brian-Where is he?

Me-I told you, he’s in the field over there, under a rock.

Brian-Why is he under a rock?

Me-To discourage grave robbers. God, you know nothing about burying bodies.

Brian-Whatever. Can you just tell me exactly where to go so I’m not just digging in random spots.

Me-You’re right, I’m sorry. My field directions have been shoddy lately. How’s this…when you get to the lawn you’re going to head west for about 26 feet, then hang a right at the first milkweed you come to. After that you’re going to see some poison ivy on your right, now it’s really important that you merge onto the poison ivy.That will bring you straight out to a pile of dog shit. I want you to continue through the pile of dog shit until the smell makes your eyes water. Just when you’re starting to itch and you can’t take the smell anymore you should see the grave on your left.  But if you fall into that big-ass gopher hole you know you’ve gone too far and you’ll need to turn around. Do you need me to write this down?

He threw the shovel in the garage and said “screw  it”. The question will always weigh heavy on our minds…did we bury him alive?   I mean, at this point would you dig his by now rotting body up or just have a toast to him and call it a day?

RIP Jack.

By the way- because we are so freaked out about Jack, we have yet to bury Lily. Right now she smells mildly like shrimp. We’ll give up on her when she has the aroma of a dead rotting fish or she disintegrates.

P.S.  Please don’t tell our son about this as therapy is very expensive and time consuming