A Time to Mourn

We have had a many, many, oh so many pets over the years.  When Clark was little, he was so passionate about animals that I gladly wanted him to experience the joy and responsibility of pet ownership.  I admit that as the number of children as increased, my interest in the acquisition of pets has all but completely disappeared.  When the girls begged and pleaded for months for hamsters, I held strong.  No.
Abe finally took them to spend their own money, but I washed my hands of the whole affair.

Elinor has been wanting chickens for a long time.  Heck NO! We Won't Go!
No cats.
No dogs.
Goldfish?  Sure-- that hardly counts.
Hermit crabs?
No.

Recently, Elinor somehow convinced her father to take her to the store so she could buy hermit crabs and all the paraphernalia hermit crabs "need".

This week one of the hermit crabs passed on-- as all hermit crabs eventually do (usually sooner rather than later).   And as heartless as I am about the children's pets, I am not entirely unfeeling when a life is to be mourned.

The invitations were handed out.

 They prepared the burial site and dressed in proper, respectful clothing for such an occasion.

A cardboard coffin was lovingly constructed and the remains were sprayed with sweet smelling body spritz to mask the odor of death.

"Leafa" was gently lowered to her final resting place.

Everyone had a chance to share a memory of good times with "Leafa".
--"She wasn't mean like the other hermit crab."
--"She didn't pinch."
--"I never really knew her or made eye-contact with her, but I knew she was good."
--"She was a sickly crab.  She never really had a chance to live."

The mouners were appropriately solemn.
The same cannot be said for Clark and Bethany.  They were the hecklers on the trampoline.  Shame on them.

Lunch afterwards was delicious.  It was "Bacon Wednesday" afterall.