"I had an axolotl named Rosie. She died! She died!" - Lisa Simpson's poetry, adapted for my own personal use by Ithaca Sorensen
Unfortunately, young Rosie has passed. As temperatures climbed into the 30s (or 90s for you Fahrenheit users out there), the heat became too much for her little body to bear. We tried everything to cool her water, from shade and fans to ice bottles in the tank, but to no avail. She wouldn't eat and she got paler and paler. Finally, as a last resort I tried putting her in the fridge (a technique for cooling axolotls that has actually proven quite successful in many cases, despite how scary it sounds). But by that time I fear it was too late, and in the morning when I opened the refrigerator she was gone.
Tyler was away that weekend, so my neighbor Jesse was the only witness to the funeral service held in Rosie's honor. With a spoon, I dug a small hole in the yard by our apartment, under a nice little bush. I built a mound of small rocks atop her grave, and placed a nice blue flower on top. I cracked open a cold beer, and poured the first drink out for her.
But, as always, life goes on. After Rosie's death I was consoled by health of my small garden on my porch! This morning I harvested my first (and so far only) cucumber. But look how big it is! Yum! Also, I have been munching on the many cherry tomatoes as they become ripe for the picking. My first blueberry turned blue. Only my broccoli plant remains fruitless. Oh well.
As we mourn the death of Rosie, who always had a smile on her little axolotl face and a spring in her floating step, we must remember that life goes on in many other ways. I write this post while sitting in the kitchen, watching out the window as butterflies flit cheerfully around Rosie's grave, enjoying their beautifully short lives.
Unfortunately, young Rosie has passed. As temperatures climbed into the 30s (or 90s for you Fahrenheit users out there), the heat became too much for her little body to bear. We tried everything to cool her water, from shade and fans to ice bottles in the tank, but to no avail. She wouldn't eat and she got paler and paler. Finally, as a last resort I tried putting her in the fridge (a technique for cooling axolotls that has actually proven quite successful in many cases, despite how scary it sounds). But by that time I fear it was too late, and in the morning when I opened the refrigerator she was gone.
Tyler was away that weekend, so my neighbor Jesse was the only witness to the funeral service held in Rosie's honor. With a spoon, I dug a small hole in the yard by our apartment, under a nice little bush. I built a mound of small rocks atop her grave, and placed a nice blue flower on top. I cracked open a cold beer, and poured the first drink out for her.
RIP Rosie.
But, as always, life goes on. After Rosie's death I was consoled by health of my small garden on my porch! This morning I harvested my first (and so far only) cucumber. But look how big it is! Yum! Also, I have been munching on the many cherry tomatoes as they become ripe for the picking. My first blueberry turned blue. Only my broccoli plant remains fruitless. Oh well.
As we mourn the death of Rosie, who always had a smile on her little axolotl face and a spring in her floating step, we must remember that life goes on in many other ways. I write this post while sitting in the kitchen, watching out the window as butterflies flit cheerfully around Rosie's grave, enjoying their beautifully short lives.
Ah, shoot, sweetie. I'm sorry. As you know, I love pets as much as life itself, and it always hurts when one dies. No matter how we tell ourselves, "little things die", we still shed a tear. I sure miss you. I sent you an email, and also a little package in the mail. Heading home from Valdez tomorrow, while your dad stays another month.
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