Aaaaaa! Mudpuppy's Loose!

Posted in January 2008, but needed to repost to spotlight ... SO ENJOY A SECOND TIME! 

At the end of November, just before the Thanksgiving break, I allowed my daughter to adopt a crayfish.  Her class had used them for a biology unit and they were all done with them.  The teacher assured me that it would most likely live only a couple of months in captivity.  She also told us that if we got sick of him at any point we would need to bring him back rather than setting him free because he wouldn't know how to defend himself in the wild.  So we found him a plastic home, filled it with gravel, cut a plastic cup in half for his "cave", and bought some algae pellets for food  (mmmm, good!).

Now, perhaps this entire undertaking was a bit overzealous on both our parts.  She wanted a pet of her own for her room (at least I feel that was at the root of it even though she already has a cat that presents pet care challenges for her) and I believed it would be an inexpensive and short-lived pet experience that might teach some responsibility.  I have mentioned one cat, but we have THREE others as well and I care for them most of the time, well closer to ALL of the time.  In the weeks that followed the crayfish adoption, we adjusted to a routine that kept the cats out of her room and kept Mudpuppy, as he became known, safe in his box on her desk.  If they happened to get in, the cats still found him quite enthralling, but never attempted to do anything but observe him.

Ahhh, I can remember the first time he molted.  It's still so fresh in my mind.  My daughter had gone upstairs to check on him (as often a new mother does with a new child), but then screamed at the top of her lungs.  "Mommy, Mommy, the cats killed my crayfish" with little tears streaming down her cheeks.  It sure looked like something had gnawed the heck out his little body.  So, there I was with this clear plastic Rubbermaid bin of gravel hovering over the toilet, ready swish what remained of the crayfish onto its journey to the sea when I noticed movement under the half-a-cup.  I attempted to lift it but pulled back almost instantaneously when Mudpuppy lunged forward to pinch my finger.  My daughter was elated.  "Oh, he molted ... he'd not dead!"  Molted?  No one mentioned molting.  That's disgusting.  How often would this happen?  "Whenever he grows."  Hmmm.  Not a helpful answer at all.  That was December.  Good times.

Last night she lovingly gave him a smooshed pellet of algae to nibble (presumably for a midnight snack?), put the plastic lid over the box except for perhaps an inch to allow for air, climbed into bed, and slipped off into dreamland.  This morning brought more drama and a complete mystery.  You see, in the middle of the night she got up to go to the bathroom and, in her exhaustion, left her door open upon returning to bed.  She slept in a little, but I got woken up earlier than I'd planned to when I heard her screaming and crying.  "Mommy, Mudpuppy's GONE" followed by a great deal of boo-hooing and angry words spouted at our resident felines.  So, I got up expecting I could check under the half-a-cup and find him again.  No dice.  

Now I had to try to console a heart-broken kid over a missing crustacean AND see if I could find the damn thing, which was somewhere in my house.  Surely the cat wouldn't eat the entire thing (head, pinchers, and all?), would it?  This situation led to me finding the ridiculous mound of crap under her bed which turned into daddy purging all trash and half her stuff because she'd told us the night before that her room was clean.  Oooooh, it was an interesting morning indeed.

First things first, though.  I had to find that thing.  If it was not entirely eaten, I had to find it.  The thought of it lying somewhere ready to be unknowingly grabbed or stepped on just freaked me out!  So, I did what I had to do: I tried to think like a cat.  I tried to imagine one of the furballs hunched over the Rubbermaid bin, grasping the little creature in its jaws, trying not to get pinched.  I imagined the cat quickly throwing it down onto the floor.  I imagined the crustacean starting to move as quickly as possible to get away from the cat and then inevitably dying at some point.  But I couldn't figure out where it might have finally given up.  I was at a complete loss.  Then I realized that the cat probably did eat most of it after all.  Gross.  After all, the only other time one of my cats had caught one of our pets was when he'd managed to snag the lazy Plecostamus from the fish tank, but left it on the floor when he realized that it was either not too tasty or was too crunchy.  So, if I didn't find Mudpuppy anywhere in plain view, he had probably been consumed.  Even letting him go in the creek to fend off natural enemies would have been better than the demise that awaited him here in our happy home.

We never found a single trace of Mudpuppy in her bedroom.  We expanded the search to the livingroom downstairs, the kitchen, and my bedroom (since I thought my loving cats would bring a piece of their prize to momma ... and I'm glad to say that, apparently, they didn't).  We looked under furniture, in nooks and crannies, and even in crevices between baseboards and carpets.  We have NO idea where he could have gone or where his remains may be.  Every once in a while I think of how he's going to start to stink and I cringe.  "Mommy, Daddy says that at some point he'll start to stink and we can sniff him out."  Great - I'll volunteer you for that job, little one.  After all, I've done diaper and puke duty for over 11 years now.  I don't think I should have to do rotten-crustacean-carcass-clean-up duty ... Thank You Very Much!

In hindsight, I wish I'd eaten him the first day he came home ... just as I'd joked.  It would have been a heck of a lot better than living in fear of the dreaded stink that may await us.

Even still my husband and I, in recalling the events of the day, can do little more than chuckle profusely about the entire thing.  In fact, the last thing he said before he went to work was "You've GOT to put this on Gather."  And so here it is ... for your reading pleasure.  Just be glad it's not you. ;)

We have to assume that he has passed at this point and so I dedicate this article to him... 

~In Memory Of~
     Mudpuppy
       2007-08
         R.I.P.

And, for those of you who might be wondering, I will resist the urge to Gather on his behalf.

***UPDATE*** Well, there really is no update ... Mudpuppy is still MIA.  :(