I would like to take a moment to ask the collected gather to observe a moment of silence for my hermit crab Ceilidh. (It’s pronounced “Kaylee” to rhyme with “Bailey.” Or it was. Sob.)
This weekend during a party the heat in my house was accidentally shut off for a time, and I fear that the poor thing froze to death.
The other two crabs, Aerin and Clea, are thankfully still live. Their buggy eyes give me much joy and comfort in this time of trials. I will forever remember Ceilidh- the way she climbed on my keyboard like it was a mountain range, her life philosophy of “I have a shell! Dyeahhh!” as she would launch herself off the edge of my desk. Yea, verily she was a crab of great worth who embraced life to the fullest.
In keeping with Irish tradition Renegade Librarian and I buried her in the backyard.
The traditional Irish wake is being held this Saturday. To this end, I would like to ask the Dopers to contribute eulogies. The sappier, the better. The best will be read at the wake, and we shall raise a glass in your honor.
Friends, loved ones, fellow invertibrates, we gather together today not to mourn the loss of, um, Ceel… er, no. Cal… ugh, wait. (Say, how do you pronounce this?) Ah, Ceilidh ((who the f*#k pulled that name out of their ass!?)).
Anyway, we gather together today not to mourn the loss of Ceilidh, but rather to celebrate his, er, rather her – it’s life. A life marked by a great many accomplishments, not the least of which was… um, well… she never gave us salmonella, and once she tried to make a home out of an empty ChapStik tube.
And who can forget the many ways Ceilidh enriched out lives? Why, I was just remarking yesterday that little Jenny still has unspeakable nightmares stemming from the time she saw Ceilidh eating her freshly molted exoskeleton. And who could forget that time Ceilidh went missing for a few days, and Andygirl walked to the bathroom in the middle of the night and stepped on and crushed that walnut shell? Ha, ha, ha! Oh, Andygirl made a noise like a strangled ferret and jumped six feet! Ah, good times!
In closing, I’m sure that Ceilidh is in a better place (and no, I don’t mean that StayFree box we buried her in). I can only imagine that she’s gone to somewhere where hermit crabs are eternally blessed, and God himself is enjoying her slightly pungent odor and providing her a selection of devine seashells to expand her bulbous abdomen in.
You named your crab after a festive Irish/Scottish gathering? Normally people serve crab at partys (or get them afterwards if they aren’t careful)…
Ah, here’s to Ceilidh…
Certainly she’s in a better place, even if her tiny crustacean brain doesn’t know the difference. May she rest in peace.
Anyone got any lemon butter?
I attended a funeral once where the pastor likened the deceased to the “Away Team” on Star Trek[sup]tm[/sup] and that he/she had gone ahead to reconnoiter the unknown.
You know, this is going to make absolutely no sense, and it is a hijack of the worst kind, but I think you will all be amused.
Hokay. First off, that’s a parody, unless my mind has gone to the hermit crabs, of Joyce Kilmer’s Trees. Now bear with me here.
Joyce Kilmer’s wife’s first name was Aline.
Joyce called her Ailie, which his first son Kenton spelled Eilie.
Kenton was not exactly known for his penmanship, so when his daughter Ann (about whom I have a pit thread from like a year ago) read “Eilie” she thought it was Eilidh.
C + Eilidh = Ceilidh!
I should note here that erlidh, which wsa me misremembering Eilidh, is my AIM name, and…
Joyce Kilmer’s my great-grandpappy. That’s whycome I know about Aline and Kenton and all them.
He was a good man. A kind man. A man who gave to his community and asked nothing in return…whispers That was a crab? Well, I guess some of what I said can be salvaged.*
*The Simpsons deserve some…most…um, all the credit for this eulogy.
andygirl has had crabs for a long time now, and the loss of <reads from card> Seal-lid-huh shall be with her for a long time, like an itch she cannot scratch. But in these times of loss, we must turn to the Lord, whose love for us is as a soothing balm. For as the Bible says, <looks desperatly for bible> uh, um, Ask not for thine, uh, father if, uh… Let us pray.
Ceilidh! Kick ass name. There’s a webcomic where the main charachter is named Ceilidh, and there have been a few mispronunciation strips.
Anyway, a bad eulogy… how about a bad joke?
Most people are glad when their crabs die!
Ok, not so much.
Borrowing from John Cleese:
Ceilidh the Crab, fan of the “Parrot Sketch,” is no more. She has ceased to be. Bereft of life, she rests in peace, she has kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it, breathed her last, and gone to meet the Great Beach of Endless Used Shells in the sky, and I guess that we’re all thinking how sad it is that a crab of such talent, such capability and kindness, of such intelligence should now be so suddenly spirited away, before she’d achieved many of the things of which she was capable, and before she’d had enough fun.
Well, I feel that I should say, “Nonsense. Good riddance to her, the freeloading bastard! I hope she fries.”
Oh Lord, Thou Great Crab in the Sky, Thou hath chosen in Thy infinite Wisdom to call one of Your children home to Thee. And while we on Earth mourn our fallen, we know that our Ceilidh has embarked upon the great journey of everlasting life in Thy arms. Seldom has there been a crab such as Ceilidh. She was a crab among crabs, that rare invertebrate who managed to rise above her aquatic scrambling origins and stand tall in the terrestial world. We pray, oh Lord, that Thou hath mercy on Ceilidh’s soul, that the light which she brought to this world might please Thee to shine for ever and ever in Heaven at Your side, and that the deeds which she wrought on this Earth be not forgotten by those so priveledged to walk the same path, for however short a time, as our dear Ceilidh.
“In many ways, Ceilidh was a supporting player in our lives. She didn’t grab our attention with memorable catchphrases, or comical accents. But, whether you noticed her or not, Ceilidh was always there … and we thought she always would be.”
