From the moment my kids could speak they have begged me for a dog. Which is unfortunate for them because: A. My husband is deathly allergic to fur, and B. I am at maximum capacity for cleaning poop.
A shell bearing sea creature was not exactly on my list of ‘things I need in my life right now’, but I do appreciate the value of learned responsibility via keeping things alive, and a change of heart is just a flush away so welcome to our home, creepy hermit crabs. Because really, what says ‘loyal companion’ more than a black-eyed, soul-less crustacean?
Introducing (from left): Barbie Sparkle Queen, Sparkle Rainbow and Ella. Feminists around the world may now join together in a collective cringe.
I’m semi-familiar with hermit crabs because we had them as kids. My uncle lives in Florida and one Christmas he found three on the beach, boxed them up and mailed them to Missouri. Several questions still go unanswered about the hows and whys and legalities of that decision.
My first clue that hermit crabs mightn’t be the most desirable of animal companions was the outpouring of volunteers willing to drop them like a hot potato. Within minutes of suggesting we might be in the market on Facebook, several friends were practically throwing them at me.
“We have some! And a cage, and food, and I’ll give you all the cash in my wallet if you’ll just take these things off our hands!” Ignoring the red flags waving in my face, I happily drove around town collecting unwanted crabs; the motley crew now sharing a sand-lined one room loft on the girls’ dresser.
And I must say – they are not the worst pets I’ve had. They’re quiet, appreciate my cooking and not once have I had to frantically scour the neighborhood in my bathrobe shaking a bag of cat food over my head screaming “TREATS! TREATS! GODDAMMIT, LUCKY! TREEEEEAAAAAATTTTTSSS!” because someone chewed through the screen door.
The only snafu came last week when I had to Google “how do you know if your hermit crab is dead?”. They’re not the liveliest of God’s creatures. Unlike most other pets whose death is probably obvious, I’ve had to give those lazy little fellas the sniff test more than once. Which, fine. An animal that you can poke with a pair of tweezers and still not be 100% on its living status is the perfect speed for me right now.
And even when, heaven forbid, things start to go downhill and it looks like we have to pull the plug… well let’s just say God never closes a door without opening a window.
My girls have been surprisingly stoic. Most kids would complain if they asked for a dog and got a crab, but mine are probably still under the impression the hermit crabs are simply a gateway pet to one that actually has a soul. A test I’m giving them, and if they do a good job they will awaken one morning to a ribbon tied around a basket filled with chocolate lab puppies. So they make make the best of the situation by hot gluing bows to their shells and threading a leash through the terrarium, ‘walking’ them around the block in their wagon.
I’m sure there’s an equal amount of love and appreciation reciprocated between all parties involved.
Pinchy would of wanted it this way!!!
What’s all this mud?
Pinchy was out back chasing birds.
Okay, so this highlights how little I know about crabs (thank God?) but … how do you know if they’re males or females, and that they won’t … you know … give you more crabs? When I was little my mom allowed me to have two snails. They turned out to be male and female, and, well, snails have LOTS of babies.
Okay… i did think of that. Right after i googled “how do you know if your hermit crab is dead?” I googled “how to tell if your hermit crab is a boy or a girl”. Apparently the males are smaller and darker, which means i think we have two boys and a girl. I am really hoping i dont walk in on any tag team action.
My husband had a hermit crab as a child. It met it’s end when it pinched his hand, wouldn’t let go, and his mom flushed it off his hand with hot water and it into the garbage disposal.
However, poodles are pretty safe. The hubs is highly allergic to fur (he loved dating me when I had 3 cats and a retriever) and he has no problem with our standard poodle. We got Mousse from a shelter when he was 10 months old and didn’t have to house train him. And Rick just mows up the dog poop in the yard…we only have to do poopy patrol in the winter, and heck…it’s frozen. And a job for the kids.
Good thought about the poodle, but my husband is literally deathly allergic… like goes into shock if he touches fur. You haven’t lived until you have called 911 from the pharmacy aisle in wal mart while someone lays unconscious in front of you on the floor.