“Mommy, Mommy, look what I won!”
Jenevieve ran up to me, clutching a little plastic container in both hands.
Inside the container skittered a small hermit crab. It had dark but bright eyes
on thin stalks, and a thick hand painted shell. Three flowers intertwined over
the top, one pink, one blue, one lavender.
“You won?” I repeated, looking at
my niece. I had entrusted Jenevieve to her cousin’s care so that I could keep
an eye on the boys. When I gave the girls $5, I had not expected them to come
back with something living. I peered down the street and saw the booths.
Typical “get a ball in the cup” games which offered a variety of prizes from
rodents to crustaceans to fish. Concern for the poor creatures flooded me. It
was a cold October evening, and the weather only promised to get colder. Though
the workers all bundled about in jackets and hats, the animals had nothing but
plastic containers to shield them.
“I won! I’m going to name her
Amethyst,” Jenevieve said. She tilted the container so that she could see the
little crab better and then smiled up at me. “Isn’t she pretty?”
I nodded that she was, but my heart
sank. This was one of those areas in which I am very passionate. Though I am
not vegan, I do not believe that animals should be treated this way. How could
these workers know that a child who won would actually take care of the pet,
let alone not abuse it? Not to mention the condition the poor creatures had to
be in. I knew a great deal about hermit crabs. My roommate in college had
specialized in their care. Her favorite baby, a coconut sized hermit crab named
Millicent, spent a great deal of time in our bathtub and on our kitchen table,
participating in our lives like a mute member of the family.
Jenevieve pulled me from my
thoughts with a swift tug to my tartan scarf. “Look at her curling up in her
shell, Mommy,” she said.
“She’s probably cold,” I answered.
Readjusting the sling with baby Corrim inside, I beckoned my children closer. “We
need to get home now. That hermit crab needs to be some place warm and humid.” My
own personal issues aside, we had a little crab to take care of, and from the
way the evening temperature was dropping, we needed to get home quickly.
An Awkward
Conversation
Had we not had the hermit crab,
leaving the carnival so early would have cause a great ruckus. But all of the
children, including baby Corrim, were fascinated by the tiny crab and her
curious tappings. Hustling everyone into the car, I drove us home, taking time
to drop my niece off at her mother’s and thanking her for coming. When we
returned home, the warm fragrant scent of white and red bean chili greeted us.
“I’ve got to feed Amethyst!”
Jenevieve yelled.
“I’ll make her a house!” Ishtan
shouted.
“I want a crab too!” Saja wailed.
Amidst all the chaos, I closed the
doors, hung up jackets, and went to pop the cornbread in the oven. I had mixed
everything up ahead of time so that it could start baking as soon as we got
home. The noise all around me seemed to fade away though as I considered the
conversation I needed to have with my daughter. She was a smart little girl,
and she needed to understand the morality of such events. That just because
something was fun did not mean it was harmless. With such a tender heart for
animals, she needed to recognize that not all those who sold animals loved
them. That’s why we never bought anything from pet stores.
Jenevieve brought her little
container to the table and sat down. She had a bottle of crab food left over
from the three hermit crabs we had had when she was a toddler. As she sprinkled
some of the food into the container, she looked at me intently. “Why aren’t you
happy, Mommy? Don’t you like Amethyst?”
Ahhhhh.
Yes. If my daughter was smart enough to recognize that her mother wasn’t happy,
then surely she was old enough to understand the implications of morality in an
issue such as this. At least, that’s the hope I latched onto and hoped for.
“No, honey,”
I said. “It’s not that at all. I like Amethyst a lot. I just…” Taking a deep
breath, I pulled the chair out and sat down beside her. “It’s just that we don’t
play games where they give animals away as prizes because it isn’t right.”
“I won
though.”
“I know you
did. But you see, the people who buy these animals don’t take care of them like
they should. Look at Amethyst. She needs a warm humid environment, and they had
her out tonight with nothing but the plastic to keep her warm. That’s not good
for a hermit crab. It isn’t kind. And we don’t know how they take care of them
when we aren’t there.”
“The man
seemed nice.”
“I’m sure
he did. People can always seem nice, and they may even think they are, but they
don’t always do nice things to animals.” I then tried to explain to her the
morality of humane choices and choosing to frequent organizations and stores
which followed such practices rather than those that disregarded them. Though I
tried to keep my words understandable, I knew I was losing her. So I had her
restate it to me. She did, the troubled expression on her face growing.
“You didn’t
do anything wrong, sweetheart, because you didn’t know. But we don’t want to
encourage them to keep treating animals that way.”
Childlike Logic
Jenevieve
pursed her lips. She had thin lips just like her father, and she could pull the
same contemplative look as her dad too. “So what they’re doing isn’t good and
we shouldn’t do it,” she said, looking at me.
“That’s
right, honey.”
“But the
animals aren’t going to be very happy or healthy there, are they?” she asked.
“No,
probably not.”
“So I saved
Amethyst.” Jenevieve began stroking the top of Amethyst’s shell, a satisfied
smile spreading on her face. “I want to go back tomorrow and save all the rest
of the crabs too!”
“Honey, we
can’t do that. If we keep playing the game, then they’re going to keep making
money and they’re going to keep on doing it.”
“But if we
don’t, then they’re going to be sad. I don’t want them to be sad. I don’t like
it.” Jenevieve looked at me, very puzzled and troubled.
“I know.
There’s nothing we can do for them.” I thought about trying to explain to her
reporting such matters, but it would only confuse the issue.
“Isn’t that
mean though? If we could help and we don’t?”
This was
one battle of many battles I was losing. My dear child’s conviction rivaled
mine, but it drove her in a different direction. She could not understand how participating
in the games would only fuel the business. All she saw was that immediate need:
to rescue the hermit crabs, goldfish, mice, and rabbits. All of them. And I was
at a loss for words.
Too Heavy a Topic or
an Unavoidable Issue
The night
did not pass as cheerfully as any of us hoped. When Dej arrived from work, he
was startled to find that we were not nearly as chipper as he anticipated. He
did not help matters much by assuring Jenevieve that this whole situation wasn’t
a big deal.
“You can’t
go and save them all,” he said. “Besides, they don’t need to be saved. Mommy’s
right that it isn’t the best place for them, but it’s better than where they
might be. At least they don’t have to worry about being eaten alive. That
wouldn’t be fun, now would it?”
Somehow,
even with that macabre description, he managed to pull a smile out of
Jenevieve. She ran off to her room with Amethyst in hand. All of the pressure
of the last conversation seemed to have vanished from her shoulders.
“Well…I
guess that settles that,” I said to Dej.
“Don’t look
so annoyed,” he grinned. He came up behind me and slipped his arms around me,
hugging me close. “She’s too young to be thinking about this right now. They
aren’t torturing the animals. They keep them clean. They’re just not as
thoughtful as they should be. And if you don’t wait until she’s older, she’s
going to bankrupt us trying to save them all.”
“To not
talk about it would have been hypocritical,” I said.
“She’s just
a kid, Jade.”
A Sticky Question of
Morality I Still Haven’t Solved
I wasn’t
convinced. It still bothered me. The truth of the matter was that there was
very little that any one could do about this matter. And Jenevieve’s questions
had struck at a nerve within my own heart. Should I ignore the suffering or
discomfort of a small group by boycotting the provider so that I could achieve
a greater good?
I have
always abhorred concepts such as “the ends justify the means” and “just
required for the greater good.” A lot of people can be hurt in that. Animals
too. So what was I to do? It wasn’t feasible to save every one of those
creatures. But to save some…was that worth it even it continued something I
thought immoral?
If any of
you have wisdom, please feel free to share it. I don’t pretend to have the
answers to this one. Life seems to be very much about learning truth and its
nuances and then learning how to apply it. I did, of course, call the carnival
manager. The booth vendors were all from the same company in that arena, and he
listened to my concerns but ultimately assured me that they treated all of the
animals humanely and there was nothing to worry about.
These
matters are difficult to think about, but sometimes I think that it is
important to start with thinking and not let it pass by. Perhaps then I will
know the best course to take.