At about six in the evening of a beautiful summer day, my phone rang. As I attempted a simple greeting, like: "Hello?", Tess, my nine year old granddaughter hysterically screeched: "Meme! (may -may)! we are on the way to the vet with Pirouette. Something is wrong with her! Her throat is all black. Mommy is driving as fast as she can. Meet us right away!" I live two hours from my daughter and three grandchildren. It is at a time like this, when I seriously consider tossing my geography over my shoulder, moving and not looking back. "Tess, let me know what happens. It will take me a while to get there, keep moving forward!
Pirouette - Tess' Bearded Dragon. Pirouette came to Tess as a three inch baby, eight months ago. I used to tease and call the lizard: "Dizzy Lizzy". I learned the diet, habits, etc. to assist in the care of a Bearded Dragon. In her travel tank, Pirouette made either of our houses, her home.
I called my son, "Uncle Nick" to the Trio (Tess and her two brothers- todd, 10 and Tanner, 7) and told him that I might be in Zanesville for a day or two, and explained the situation. He replied: "Mom, remember Dr. Mackerel?" I had to laugh. When my children were young, if we found a pet goldfish, shall we say, "sleeping" on it's side, I would say: "Oh dear! It looks like Patches (or whoever) doesn't feel well. While you're in school tomorrow, I'll bring him/her to Dr. Mackerel and see what he can do." (Fish specialist only found in my mind) The next day, the fish would feel so much better - replaced by an exact duplicate. Thank goodness, Tiff's pink goldfish lived for thirteen years (no joke), because that would have been a dilly to replace. By the time "Fishcake" died, Tiffany was a teenager and was aware of mortality. Anyway, Nick said that he'd get on the phone and find another bearded dragon. He told me to go to Zanesville and pick up Pirouette, dead or alive, promise my connections with Dr. Newt Gecko, and then return with a well heated Pirouette! Then the "glitch" surfaced it's ugly head: Pirouette grew to be twelve inches long, had a four (or more) inch circumference around her tummy. Nick called every pet shop in a seventy-five mile radius north, south, east, west. Only babies. He began on animal shelters as I packed an overnight bag and received the next call:
"Meme!!! Hurry!!! You used to work at the Zoo (Central Park Zoo, NYC, education department for five years) and you know what the Vet is talking about! Pirouette may not make it through the night and we have to keep her comfortable to try to get the toxins out. Mommy fed her a lightning bug and the light is poisonous! I want to come by you!" A gush of tears followed. I phoned Nick: "How are you making out? I'm on my way to Tess, please let me know as soon as possible what's what!" An exhausted response: "Mom, I have three of us on phones and we've got nothing! We might have to check Indiana or Pennsylvania!" Reality took hold: "Nick, if you are all combing Ohio, I don't think there is much hope. We've got to go with Pirouette's demise."
For two hours, Todd and Tanner phoned to check my progress and update the patient's condition. Tess wasn't available. She was alternately holding and soaking Pirouette to "keep her comfortable" while crying. As I got out of my car, the boys nearly knocked me over, grabbed my bag and purse and ushered me into the living room. My daughter was devastated and filled with guilty sorrow. Tess clung to me and we spent the evening stroking and holding Pirouette in her misery. I said to Tess that she needed some rest. I told her that Mom and I would check Pirouette during the night. I told Todd and Tanner that Pirouette was "hanging in" for Tess, but most likely would pass during the night, once Tess put her in her tank. they said good night to her, kissed her and said that they would miss her. With labored breadth, Pirouette did her best to acknowledge them.
Like the Italian (at least part) that she is, Tess made calls in the morning. She called her Grandfather, Uncle Nick, the Richards Family, her God-Mother, her friends and with each call, cried telling them about Pirouette. Like the 75% Italian and 25% Sicilian that I am, I figured that I should keep "the book" of mourners for future reference.
We selected a peaceful spot near a trellis in the yard. The boys each took shovels and excavated the burial site. Tiff bought a pink plastic container and lined it with a pink and white doll blanket. We decorated the interior with Pirouette's red heat plant. I suggested placing her Christmas Stocking that I made with her, but Tiff said that Tess might want it as a memory. A private family internment followed. tess read a Psalm about the Lord and His creatures and the Resurrection. Each of us then spoke. I was glib, light telling of two misadventures that I had with Pirouette. Tiff crumbled and cried only saying she was sorry, that it was an accident. Todd told us about Pirouette on his computer keyboard. Tess did her best to talk about her pet, but just couldn't finish. Tanner made us giggle, though, when he admitted that he didn't think Pirouette liked him much. "I think that she thought that I was annoying." We did all smile and agree. Tess placed the box in the hole. That was the most heart wrenching scene. Tiff, Tess and I watched the boys fill in the hole and place a flat disk of a stone on top, to suffice until a more permanent marker be make and placed. The boys, with their heads bowed, walked back to the house/garage dragging their big shovels silently. Tiff, to my right was so racked with guilt, that she barely walked. Tess clung to my left hip, sobbing.
I had an uncle. I will call him Uncle No Heart. After my Grandfather suffered, what turned out to be his final stroke and was in a coma, my children and I were in the hospital restaurant when Uncle no Heart came up to me. Sir Lean and Mean, waggled his finger at me and said with a smirk: "I know that you are close to your Grandfather (his Father, by the way). I know that you have spent your lifetime loving your Grandparents and that you taught your children the same. Now, this is the end of the line. Are you willing to pay the price? " Like a lioness, I pounced (verbally): "I pay the price every day and I hurt and I'm glad! I want one more day, one more hour, one more minute, even a second with Grandpa! I pay the price when I drag these two kids to the hospital to visit their Great-Grandpa even if he can't wake up! I do it with joy! We love and feel. If ultimate loss and sorrow are the prices for loving and feeling, bring it on and I'll pay and pay and pay and then beg to pay some more! Mom (his sister) is paying over and over as well! Just go away! Just go away!" He turned and left with his arrogance and cockiness flashing all over the place. Some patrons, who witnessed the scene, applauded me and those who didn't clap, gave me encouraging, sympathetic smiles.
As we walked and I cleared my mind of the recollection, I said to Tess; "Pirouette is always with you. She's a Pet Angel and..." Before I could continue, Tess said: "And, Meme, when I have another Bearded Dragon, she'll help me take care of it even better!" I smiled: "Yes Tess, and eventually, you'll meet Pirouette at the Rainbow Bridge to play together again. But not for a long time."
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