RIP 18/04/09 - 23/07/09
Dear Quaoar,
I never got to know you very well, since you only spent about a week's worth of time above the surface during your stay with me. However, a week is still a week and you will always occupy a slot in my memory.
I have seen you in the pet store several times in the past, still in that tiny painted shell of yours with tiger stripes. You were in pretty bad shape, though that is purely the pet store's fault - no heat source nor clean water in a chilly autumn environment. I first thought you were beyond help, but I was surprised that you still had a lot of strength left as you popped out of your shell to see who had picked you up and pushed at my fingers with your legs. You were pretty big too; I wasn't sure if it would be fair on my other kids if you were to share the tank with them. I picked you up and down, walked around in circles, looked at other things in the area, thinking what to do. When I picked you up, you came out of your shell, but when I put you down, you retracted back into a somewhat sorrowful position. However, in the end, I dashed to the counter with you in my hands before I changed my mind. After all, who knows if our encounter would be the last time I see you alive?
I wonder why you refused to change out of that painted shell. Once you changed out, I wanted to make a photo guide as to how to remove the paint from a shell. I dumped plenty of spare shells for you, yet you never stopped to look at any of them.
Finally, after the one week isolation period, I threw in more bedding so that you could bury yourself, which you did right away. From there, I didn't see you much until the day I lifted the dish and saw you desperately trying to climb out of your moulting nest. You hadn't eaten any of your exo and you didn't look fully hardened. You drank some water, but then became increasingly lethargic until your mind faded away. I am still unsure why you left me so soon. I never saw you eat and you dropped a leg. Perhaps your exo was infected with something unknown to me? I do not want to just slap a "PPS" on you as your cause of death. True, it is a wonder how you managed to survive in the pet store, but it could also be my fault. Sorry, Quaoar, but there are no qualified hermit crab vets out there. Please forgive me, as I did try my best.
So what have I learnt about you? Not much, to be honest, but you will always be remembered as a son of mine. Rest in peace, to wherever the butterflies have taken you.
Wai
(Your try-hard human parent)
