Last spring the girl started asking for a pet as a way to help her manage her anxiety. Something for her to take care of, help draw her focus to this living creature and away from the chaos consuming her mind. She poured her heart and soul into research, everything from costs and supplies to care and lifespan, going so far as to investigate if small pets were allowed in dorm rooms as we did virtual college tours this summer.
At first, she was talking about geckos and lizards and animals which required live insects as part of their diet. Outwardly I simply nodded while inside I recoiled in horror, thoughts of escaped crickets chirped in my nightmares. There are three categories of living entities I abhor: rodents, insects, and politicians. I’d already relented on the rodent when we owned a fluffy teddy bear hamster aptly named Teddy Roosevelt back when the girl was in 4th grade. He lived his standard three year lifespan and died a mere week after we had given him away to a new family. Apparently old age, stress, and a broken heart can lead to death. I felt horrible for the little boy we had given him too, and just as terrible for poor Teddy Roosevelt.
It’s not like we don’t already have any pets in the house. The girl was part of picking out the two kittens who currently own our home, and each will partake in climbing up to her loft bed to nap or sleep with her from time to time. But as any cat owner knows, you don’t own them so much as they tolerate you. She helps change their litter box, they occasionally seek out her lap when she’s watching a TV show, but she wanted something more hers alone, to be kept in her room.
One day, the idea of Dipper was born and presented to us. An axolotl, the relative of a salamander, an aquatic creature which lives in a tank and, according to her research, easy to care for. He could live for 10 years or more, making his way to college with her, silently observing all the obstacles she will overcome between now and then. She would watch him grow, provide everything he would need, and in return he would be a calming presence, silently swimming, observing, never judging.
She investigated where to purchase such a creature and read all the reviews to make sure the business was legitimate and humane. We even talked with a lady at the pet store that owned two axolotls. She helped us pick out a tank and filter, a lid so it wouldn’t jump out and two curious cats couldn’t reach inside, and of course the chemical conditioner to treat the water. Like most fish, you can’t simply put an axolotl in tap water straight from the faucet. You have to remove the chlorine and fluoride and hardness and create the environment which will support this creature. She succeeded, or so we thought.
By Sunday evening, Dipper hadn’t been eating well for a few days. His coloring was off, he didn’t appear to be growing anymore. She reached out to a discord server for axolotl owners, and they coached her through some problem solving tips, product recommendations, one even over-nighted us some special leaves to feed Dipper. She tried them all, but it was too late. By Monday morning, Dipper was gone. Nothing could stop the stream of tears, the empty tank sitting idle, an already broken heart further damaged.
There’s no way to ever know what went wrong with Dipper. Was it the wrong water chemical? Did the one she drank to try to kill herself actually kill her pet instead? Did we trust the wrong person when seeking advice for how to care for this pet? Did we not do enough research in how to care for this little guy? It turns out there’s more involved in providing a habitable water environment for axolotls than simply adding in a few drops of conditioner every time you cycle out some water.
More importantly, how does this girl overcome yet another painful heartbreak? It seems like everywhere she turns, misery and disappointment await. Will life ever get better for her? The ups and downs of her days, her hours, are too quick to keep up with. One minute she’s joking with friends and playing Nintendo Switch and moments later she’s in tears trying to save her dying pet. Her weekend is played out like a microcosm of life in 2020. There is no middle, merely polar extremes.
When we arrive at her intensive outpatient program, her eyes red, nose dripping behind her mask, her therapists and friends in her group can tell she needs help. I am grateful for them, and for her ability to open herself to them. They help her deal with her pain and grief. By the time I pick her up, and later that evening, she is ready to think about her dad’s idea to rework the tank filter so it is quieter and not as powerful, how to cover the glass bottom, so the axolotl doesn’t see its reflection and become stressed, and keep a log of pH levels on a calendar to monitor the water environment, all before ordering her next pet, all to ensure that “Little Dipper” will survive thanks to the knowledge learned from “Big Dipper” before him.
There are too many questions, and not enough answers. Dipper was only with us a short time, but he was a sweet little guy who deserved a much longer life. I hope my girl will one day see that about herself. That she deserves better. It’s as if she went out looking for apples, and was handed lemons instead. She needs to know it’s not her fault she’s been given lemons. The process of taking those lemons and fashioning them into lemonade is complex, not everyone wants to go through the effort. Others would rather complain about the taste than attempt to help with the production process. But when all is said and done, I know in my heart this girl is strong, and it is through her strength and perseverance that she will continue to push forward into a better future.
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