Dervish

When I am up at the shopping centre with Yasmin, we invariably go into the pet shop so she can look at all the animals.  The pet shop owners seem to be used to mums with their bubs gawking at the pets, because no-one seems to give me grief when I never buy anything.  (Is it halal to buy dried pig’s ears for one’s non-Muslim mother’s dog to chew on as a treat?)

A couple of months ago, we discovered a different pet shop had a tank of hermit crabs.  These are crawly little creatures that live inside other sea-creatures’ discarded shells.  They are pretty harmless, although they can pinch you inadvertently if you don’t keep your hand flat when you are holding them.  They are also relatively easy to look after, as mostly they just like a bit of food and water, a bit of warmth, and some new shells to move in to.

So I extracted the time-worn promise of a child who wants a new pet, that Yasmin would take care of her new pets, and we bought three hermit crabs (this was before my non-consumer lifestyle kick). 

They’re funny little things, and Yasmin has been true to her promise.  Every day I help her clean the old food out of their tank, fill up their salt-bath, put fresh water and new food in and move their shells around.

She took the hermit crabs to kindergarten for show-and-tell, in which she showed future promise to take after her mama as someone who enjoys getting up and lecturing to an audience.

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