Princess Shelby

When I was 8, my mom and dad vacationed somewhere south (Daytona? Myrtle Beach?). I cannot remember the place, but oh, I remember the little pet I so lovingly picked.

There were a mountain of shells globbed together in the communal aquarium. I chose her strictly for her spunk- she was the only one clinging to the side net.

Princess Shelby of Shelbyville was her name. My pet hermit crab did not do much; mostly folded up in her shell and occasionally on the sponge full of water nestled in her cage.

Four years later, I rolled right into junior high with my tiny pet. I remember bringing her to school, showing off skills and tricks in my science class.

Not that she did much. 

Fellow students peered into her shell and tried prying her out with toothpicks/Q-tips/anything small enough to dig her out of her protective casa.

One day, I returned home from some activity, and Princess Shelby was not in her plastic square box.

My mom told me she had died and she ever so lovingly took care of Princess Shelby's burial.

Fast forward 15 years.

Kayden, Bryce, and I went to Florida with my parents before I got pregnant with Tessa.

Upon browsing the hermit crab cages at the souvenir shop, my mom informed me that she got so sick of Princess Shelby (hermit crabs are only supposed to last around a year), one day she killed her in the garage with a hammer.

Ever since, I have called her the hermit crab murderer.

Well, Jan had the last laugh.

This little beauty, with the original name of "Hermie", came to live with us around Mother's Day.

And Mom is really loving it, because yesterday I went to feed Hermie and he is MIA.

I feel phantom crab legs all day.

Must.find.soon.