It was late, I was tired, and I had a sense of renewed energy at setting up the perfect home for these weird little creatures. I arrived home, parked in the driveway and gathered up the crab home with the plastic box containing Steve and George and made my way to the back door of my house. I put the key in the lock and as I turned the lock and opened the door, my four legged welcoming committee came running up to meet me. I was dog sitting for a friend so I had one more furry friend than usual-- a total of three. Gracie, the mixed breed, and Luna, the Boston Terrier, were my usual residents and Buster, a Puggle with a strong underbite, was a temporary resident while his fur parents were moving into a new home. All three pups gave me a quick sniff, checked out what I was carrying into the house and then hurriedly made their way outside to handle affairs better suited in the browning grass. So far, so good-- I passed my furry crew security with the new pets.
I set everything on the small table in the kitchen and opened the crab home box. This should be easy I thought as I pulled the plastic container from the box, gave it a quick rinse, toweled it dry and poured the bag of white sand into the enclosure. I felt like one of those Zen garden masters as I moved the sand to every corner of the crab home and made it smooth and what I thought would be appealing to any crustacean aficionado. Sand smoothing complete, I heard soft knocking in the small plastic container nearby and glanced over to see Steve and George trying to get their footing on the smooth plastic bottom, shells knocking against the sides of the box. "Not to worry guys," I said cooing "I'll have you in your home very soon." I'm sure this completely assured them-- no trauma here for crabs. No crabby psychiatrist needed.
I picked up my pace in putting together the "crabitat", a word that I kept seeing in the instructions included with the crab home, and got the water sponge put into its special place created just for crab water sponges. Next was the crab food and as I opened the container, I was hit with the pungent smell of dehydrated shrimp. Hmm, I thought, this is going to be interesting. I followed the food preparation directions listed on the side of the bottle and moistened the pieces of shrimp. I placed the container of food into the crabitat and placed the top on the new crab home. Success! Time to move the squirming crabby inhabitants into their new home. They were going to love it!
I picked up Steve and George and gently placed them into their new home. Dreams of them feeling the soft sand beneath their feet and running to try the odorous food that I had prepared for them were quickly dashed when they immediately retreated into their shells and refused to come out. Not daunted, I figured it was late anyway and that I needed to get my furry crew back inside from their potty adventures and prepare for bed. I placed the crabitat on the coffee table in the living room and secured the top. I figured this placement would allow me maximum viewing when they finally decided to come back out.
The dogs were eager to come back inside and I then sat on the sofa for a few minutes, intently watching for the crabs to come out of their shells. One of my cats, Oliver, jumped on the coffee table to give the crabs a quick sniff (I'm sure attracted to the smell of the crabs' food and wondering why he couldn't have such a delicacy at that hour) and then left them alone. Ahh, peace in the animal kingdom. This was going to totally work out.
I finally gave up on the crabs showing themselves that evening-- figuring they would be more active after some rest. After all, they had been traveling with the crazy carnival people-- they needed respite. I was going to be crab Zen master for them. Peace and tranquility. I got ready for bed and turned in for the night-- cooing again to my crabby crew "Good night Steve and George."
Little did I know a few hours later I would be awakened to the sound of scratching on plastic and crab mayhem, crab Armageddon, crab catastrophe.
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Saturday, July 25, 2015
First Crabby Digs - Part I
I haven't blogged in over a year so please bear with me as I flex my writing and try to get back into things. I've posted so many things on Facebook and keep hearing from people that they can't wait to hear what happens next. So, with that thought in mind, to quote the famous Paul Harvey-- these blog entries will be the 'rest of the story.' In my mind, I live a hum-drum life-- not too exciting, nothing extravagant, just kind of "beige." I guess funny things/unusual things/ crazy things happen to me all the time and I just have become so accustomed to it that it's nothing special to me.
That said, I've just recently been "gifted" three hermit crabs from the county fair after attending with a good friend and her family. They were obtained from a game of "skill," a game whereby ping pong balls were thrown from a distance toward small goldfish bowls. Get a ball into a bowl, win a hermit crab. Uh, yeah, never play with a kid that's about 20 years younger than you-- he'll hit the mark more often than not.
The cost was $5 for a gallon bucket of ping pong balls so I plunked down my Lincoln and starting tossing the balls at the bowls. I had already gone through 20 of the roughly 50 balls in the bucket and hadn't hit anything. I had the anticipation of wanting to get lucky, but also the apprehension that if I did make one of the bowls-- what in the hell would I do with a hermit crab?! I already have two dogs, two cats, four chickens, 2 African clawed frogs and about 10 pond fish-- I think the Inn is full!
My friend's brother (the kid who's 20 years younger than me) came over at this point, grabbed roughly 10 balls from the bucket and landed two of the 10! Ching, ching, two crabs! A few more tosses and ching! Another crab! We were racking it up! Next thing I knew, the Kid gave another $5 to the Carnie and again, after a few throws, ching ching! Two more bowls hit! Two more crabs! Yay!
Oooh, Shitake mushrooms! FIVE FREAKING CRABS!! I was caught up in the moment of winning, of greed, of wanting to take the creatures home! Then, a glimmer of reality set in and I realized how much space those five crabs would need. Not to mention that I know absolutely NOTHING about taking care of such a crustacean. The Kid was beside himself with excitement and announced loudly to the Carnie that we had 5 total crabs coming to us. I looked at the Carnie and said "uh, can we just have two?" The Carnie, grinning with fewer teeth than a stripped gear wheel, grunted "limit's two!" Whoo hoo! I could do this! Two crabs! They'd be buddies and I would be the Fairy Crabmother! Oh boy!
I gave the Carnie the $5 needed for the special plastic case and he put two squirming, writhing hermit crabs in and closed the lid. "Here ya go!" he announced as he handed it to me. I raised the container up to have a closer look at my new inhabitants. Hmm, they looked creepy-- yet kind of cool at the same time. Kind of like a Sigourney Weaver "Alien" kind of thing. This would be fun! I wanted to rescue them from their wild home with the carnies-- I wanted to make them a habitat that would make all other captive crustaceans jealous. In between all of this crab dreaming, I also came up with the names; George and Steve. It seemed fitting.
I carried the crabby plastic case through the fair as if it had a delicate art piece in it-- shielding from any bumps or unnecessary knocking that might happen as I dodged the masses of bare bellies, tattooed arms, and sticky fingered screaming kids that wanted "ice cream!" After saying goodnight to my friend and her family, I made my way to my car which was parked in a grassy field outside of the fair and set the container down on the passenger side floor of my little purple FIT. "Okay, George and Steve," I said-- I've got to find a home for you.
Options on crab habitats in a small town on a Saturday night after 9PM are kind of limited. At least, that's what I discovered. I opted for the local Wal-Mart and thought that perhaps I could find some food for them and something to tide them over until I could get the proper "crabitat" for them the next day at the overpriced commercial pet store. What I found was a round, plastic, container that stated all over the outside of the box "Hermit Crab Home." Ohh, how perfect! I checked the price, under $20! I briefly calculated the cost so far for these creatures, $15 (two buckets of balls and the plastic carrying container), so what was another $20? It would be all I needed-- I wouldn't have to spend anything else. After all, I kept seeing the statement on the hermit crab home that hermit crabs were great first pets-- that meant inexpensive, right?
That said, I've just recently been "gifted" three hermit crabs from the county fair after attending with a good friend and her family. They were obtained from a game of "skill," a game whereby ping pong balls were thrown from a distance toward small goldfish bowls. Get a ball into a bowl, win a hermit crab. Uh, yeah, never play with a kid that's about 20 years younger than you-- he'll hit the mark more often than not.
The cost was $5 for a gallon bucket of ping pong balls so I plunked down my Lincoln and starting tossing the balls at the bowls. I had already gone through 20 of the roughly 50 balls in the bucket and hadn't hit anything. I had the anticipation of wanting to get lucky, but also the apprehension that if I did make one of the bowls-- what in the hell would I do with a hermit crab?! I already have two dogs, two cats, four chickens, 2 African clawed frogs and about 10 pond fish-- I think the Inn is full!
My friend's brother (the kid who's 20 years younger than me) came over at this point, grabbed roughly 10 balls from the bucket and landed two of the 10! Ching, ching, two crabs! A few more tosses and ching! Another crab! We were racking it up! Next thing I knew, the Kid gave another $5 to the Carnie and again, after a few throws, ching ching! Two more bowls hit! Two more crabs! Yay!
Oooh, Shitake mushrooms! FIVE FREAKING CRABS!! I was caught up in the moment of winning, of greed, of wanting to take the creatures home! Then, a glimmer of reality set in and I realized how much space those five crabs would need. Not to mention that I know absolutely NOTHING about taking care of such a crustacean. The Kid was beside himself with excitement and announced loudly to the Carnie that we had 5 total crabs coming to us. I looked at the Carnie and said "uh, can we just have two?" The Carnie, grinning with fewer teeth than a stripped gear wheel, grunted "limit's two!" Whoo hoo! I could do this! Two crabs! They'd be buddies and I would be the Fairy Crabmother! Oh boy!
I gave the Carnie the $5 needed for the special plastic case and he put two squirming, writhing hermit crabs in and closed the lid. "Here ya go!" he announced as he handed it to me. I raised the container up to have a closer look at my new inhabitants. Hmm, they looked creepy-- yet kind of cool at the same time. Kind of like a Sigourney Weaver "Alien" kind of thing. This would be fun! I wanted to rescue them from their wild home with the carnies-- I wanted to make them a habitat that would make all other captive crustaceans jealous. In between all of this crab dreaming, I also came up with the names; George and Steve. It seemed fitting.
Options on crab habitats in a small town on a Saturday night after 9PM are kind of limited. At least, that's what I discovered. I opted for the local Wal-Mart and thought that perhaps I could find some food for them and something to tide them over until I could get the proper "crabitat" for them the next day at the overpriced commercial pet store. What I found was a round, plastic, container that stated all over the outside of the box "Hermit Crab Home." Ohh, how perfect! I checked the price, under $20! I briefly calculated the cost so far for these creatures, $15 (two buckets of balls and the plastic carrying container), so what was another $20? It would be all I needed-- I wouldn't have to spend anything else. After all, I kept seeing the statement on the hermit crab home that hermit crabs were great first pets-- that meant inexpensive, right?
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