Remembering Buster

I think we started out with four hermit crabs, what seems like somewhere between two nearly four years ago, but two out of four of them died pretty quickly.

The survivors were named Buster and Clyde, and Clyde didn't last that much longer, but Buster was with us a good long time.

Buster lived in a glass tank on Ian's dresser. Ian liked to have me take him out and watch him crawl across the dresser, and Ian developed a deep affection for the creature (we all came to like Buster, over time...).

When Buster stopped moving, so to speak, I was in denial, and kept putting provisions into his tank. Finally, when we were moving things around in Ian's room, including the dresser, Amy came clean (she's a better man than I) and told Ian that Buster had died.

Ian followed us, as we carried the tank outside, mourning in a sing-sing way "Ohhh, pooooohh Bustawwww...." and wanted to know more.

Eventually, I buried Buster in a very well-marked place - on the far side of a large rock in the corner of the back yard. This was wise, because I knew Ian would want to know where he could go to visit the grave.

Ian kept asking me to show him where Buster was buried (usually at inconvenient times and places, like off on a car ride, or in his bedroom at night) ,but one time he caught me when it was actually a good time to visit the grave, one Saturday afternoon a few weeks ago (July 12) so I took him to the gravesite. I turned to leave, but looked back to see if he was following, and he stood there, kissed his hand, blew a kiss toward the grave, and waved a long, slow goodbye in the same direction - I think maybe with some whispering as well. I asked him what he was doing, and he said "I told Buster he was very good, and I kissed him."

Amy says that Ian will sometimes disappear behind the house for awhile when they're outside, and when she calls him over and asks him where he has been, he'll say, "I was just talking to Buster."