The Triad of Death

Death has touched my life three times this week.

1.) The Demise of Mrs. Doodles.

My son's pet crayfish, Mrs. Doodles surprised us by dying this week.  She was suddenly discovered, scary legs and claws reaching for the heavens.  Son was devastated.   While son regrouped in his bedroom,  Dad and I discussed interment.  Dad wanted to flush it down the toilet.  Mom argued against it.  What if in the rigor of death, the claws and legs splayed out against the plumbing and formed a trap for all matter coming after it? Chagrined but not convinced, Dad took Mrs. Doodles outside and dumped her in an empty bucket.  Way to go, Dad.  Our dog, the neighborhood cats and one sad little boy are all aware of her bucket tomb.

Mrs. Doodles was the crabbiest of pets.  She spent her days hunkered in her artificial cave, coming out only at night to climb on the stones in her bowl.  If we removed, her cave, she'd threaten us with her claws.  Now, I actually miss her clunking and her silly threats.  My son blamed himself for her death.  I reminded him of a fact that he had taught me,  "The average crayfish lives to be only a toddler in human years.   It may just have been her time to die."  I reminded him of the crayfish in his classroom and asked him how many had died.  He said at least half, most met death at the hands of another barbarous crayfish.   He'd saved her by freeing from her from the threat of other crayfish.  She'd lived a good life. 

2.) Cat with  Legs Akimbo

Midweek, on my morning walk, I saw a cute, black and white cat laying, crumpled by the side of the road.  Its' little body, lay across the white stripe at the edge of the road, its' legs raised in impossible angles.  It was alive no more.  I hoped that no young children were awaking to the loss of their pet.  I thought about the folly of forgetting cat's curious natures and their thirst for adventure.  If you let them out at night, they will roam.  Some times, they won't return.

3.) Mouse of Eternal Peace

I wasn't aware that death had come calling in it's bizarre trifecta until I discovered the mouse.  As I walked, briskly on the trail, I looked down to spot a still and peaceful mouse.  For a fraction of an instant, I wanted to tenderly pick up this mouse and lay him off to the side of the trail.  Fortunately, practicality and the fear of some hideous disease, was at the helm.  This peaceful mouse looked like a cute stuffed toy that was stitched in the posture of sleep.  It pierced my awareness and I remember the belief that "death comes in threes."  I remember the cat and then Mrs. Doodles.  Three it was!

Why had this mouse gotten through my hard outer shell?    Then, I remember the "Summer of the Mouse."

During the summers of my youth, the field mice that lived in the field behind our house liked to move into their summer home, our home.  Little mice teeth made a big hole in the carpet at the bottom of the stairs.  It was a tunnel to their expressway through the downstairs closet and kitchen.  Some times, they ventured to the second floor, making nests in the dark corners of our closets out of the pages of a treasured book.  As cute as they were, they were the enemy.

So, one day, when my brother, Dave and I cornered one small mouse in the upstairs bathroom.   We were full of blood lust.  We enjoyed the hunt.  Stuffing a towel under the door to prevent escape, we stomped after the tiny little intruder.  It's last moments were filled with terror.  When we discovered that we had indeed killed the little mouse, we were flooded with feelings of shame and remorse.  We looked at each other and said, "This wasn't a good thing.  Let's never do this again."   I have not.

One of the things I said to reassure my grieving son was "Death is a part of life."  This morning a cute, tiny and dead little mouse reminded me that there is no escape.  Life and death are hopelessly linked.  You can't have one with out the ever present possibility of the other.  And so, to the trifecta of death, I say, "thank you.  You make me more alive.  You remind me to honor life and to accept the reality of death with dignity and grace.  You bring me back to what is essential.  Sleep on Mrs. Doodles, pretty kitty and tiny mouse.  Some day, not so long from now, we'll join you.  Until then, I've got a trail to walk, a life to live and people to love.  Peace.