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.
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