Of Moths and Men

We don't have pets now. We won't have pets later. That was decided before Martha the Moth made the poor decision to fly into the house - Martha just sealed it.

One on hand, I'm proud of Teagan that she approached a moth without any fear or trepidation and on the other, I'm wondering what she won't touch considering how ugly this moth was. 

It was resting near the oven when Teagan audibly gasped and cried, "It's a butthly!" (Teagan for butterfly) and picked it up by a leg. Which tore off, so she picked it up by its wings. She wanted to return the butthly to its rightful home outside, so threw it in the air, only to have it fall very quickly back to earth. If moths had hindsight, this one would have put a little more effort into flying away. 

"She will be my pet!" Teagan exclaimed with glee, apparently interpreting the moth's injury as a plea to stay with her. So, I reluctantly pulled out a glass, poked some holes in some plastic wrap and allowed her to gently place her new pet in its enclosure. It seemed to be DOA, but I didn't have the heart to tell her. She confirmed with me several times that I had indeed provided a way for the butthly to breathe, but I think her concern would have been better placed with the poor thing's missing limbs. 

To distract her from the fact that her new pet wasn't moving, I asked Teagan what its name was. "Takawana," she replied, without missing a beat. This girl has the most creative names for dolls and pets - I'm nervous for her progeny. Unless she winds up in Utah, and names like Shoosh, Blones and Takawana are in the top 10. It took me a few times to get it right when I tried to repeat it back to her, so she decided that Martha was easier to say. So Martha it is. Was. 

I never quite know what she will remember (the scabby old dresses and T-shirts that I try to hide in hopes she'll wear something that <gasp> actually matches only to have her ask for the hidden items specifically, months after I've put them away) and what she will forget ("Please make sure you wash your hands after you use the toilet!") so when there is doubt, I try not to get rid of things. We returned from an hour of play in the backyard to find Grandma doing dishes, Martha's makeshift habitat now resting, overturned,  in the dishwasher. I tried to distract her with talk of colouring and all things shiny, praying she wouldn't ask about her pet. Mission accomplished - who doesn't love shiny things? 

We were talking about insects the next day and without thinking, mentioned that one looked like Martha. I held my breath and waited for the weeping and wailing upon discovering that dear Martha was no longer with us. Unnecessarily, as she simply asked, "Who?"

Martha, you made a lasting impression on me and the cats, dogs and small rodents everywhere who have you to thank that the Richards will be settling for digital pets for the foreseeable future. Rest in peace, my winged friend.