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| Oh, well. |
Squeaky died sometime in the night. Scotty said that he noticed when the hamster wheel suddenly went silent. Oh, well. It was his time.
Scotty had always been pragmatic about things in his life. Lose a favorite Wheel Box car? Oh, well. It'll turn up somewhere. Dropping a slice of pizza? Oh, well. Just brush it off. So when Squeaky's little ancient hamster heart stopped beating, Scotty and I (as the paternal unit) both thought about how to give him a suitable burial.
Scotty had been into Vikings after watching "How to train your Dragon" for the twentieth time. "Let's throw a Viking funeral!" Alright, we can do that, no problem. But I didn't know what I was saying.
Scotty retrieved a canoe/barge made of popsicle sticks at church camp last summer. We put Squeaky on a pile of twigs layered on the water craft. After pushing the funeral barge out in the swimming pool, Scotty used the "Hunger Games" bow with a burning marshmallow at the point of the arrow aimed at the barge.
Again and again.
When the canoe finally caught fire, it initially went up in flames and the thing burned before hisssssing out and sinking, leaving a singed marshmallow sticky Squeaky floating on the top of the water.
Oh, well.
I managed to scoop Squeaky from the failed Viking send-off with the pool skimmer. What now?
Scotty had watched some warrior movie where the slaughtered hero was placed on a funeral pyre. "Let's do that, Dad!" So we did.
We lay out some sticks criss-crossed to form a good solid structure on the patio, and carefully placed Squeaky on it. Scotty used the Kingsford wand lighter to get a good burn going on the bottom layer. But, with us being novices at funeral pyres, the whole thing collapsed, leaving Squeaky lying on the concrete surrounded by embers.
Oh, well.
I didn't know how we were going to give Squeaky a big send off. But, Scotty, being the boy scout he is, had an idea which made me wince and cringe. It made sense, but man....really?
I pulled out the old rusty Coleman barbecue and built a pyramid of Kingsford guaranteed-to-light charcoal briquettes. Scotty placed Squeaky on the center above the coals, using my brand new set of BBQ tool set. Then he performed the Kingsford lighter ritual and got the coals going.
At first, it seemed that Squeaky was finally heading to his fiery hamster Valhalla. But Noooo.
Squeaky had some sparks here and there, but clearly the charcoal was not ready. It developed a nice white ash like briquettes do. But that was it. Instead, the odor of grilled Squeaky told us the truth.
Oh, well.
By this time, Scotty had had enough. "Let's just bury it." He retrieved a shovel from the garden.
"Dad?"
Oh now, what will he ask? A pine box? What do I say? Odin, please help us. Thankfully, Scott dropped the dead hamster into the dirt and covered it up.
"Dad? Can we go to Lucille's BBQ? Mom has a coupon for free appetizers." He wiped a charcoal streaked hand across his nose. "I'm kinda in the the mood for ribs, aren't you?"
My daughter Mary's hamster Max died on the first day of middle school. Mary wept, indicating that she should stay at home for a day of mourning. Didn't happen. In a rare moment of kindness, my son John placed Max in a shoe box and buried it in the backyard with all the other deceased pets. Mary did go to school, but has insisted over the decades that she never recovered from the loss. At 32 yrs, she still mourns the loss.
I wrote this in 2014 and exhumed it. I felt it needed a more elaborate resurrection. It was fun to write.
I wrote this in 2014 and exhumed it. I felt it needed a more elaborate resurrection. It was fun to write.
Well, then indeed.
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| A good Viking funeral |
