RIP Princess Pricklepants Aug 2009-Dec 2013
Last week, our beloved pet, Princess Pricklepants, died in her sleep. She was the spiky companion to my four year old, A, in particular. The hedgie would run on its wheel at night and that would let A know she wasn’t alone. Apparently the hedgie prickles kept monsters away.
There were only a few midnight dramas where A woke up, sure hedgie wanted to play, when in fact the small creature thought the little fingers reaching in were worms.
Point is, we loved this odd little creature. I, in particular, related to its defense mechanisms. Easy to startle, prickly and neurotic, but once she settled down, she would snuggle and turn over for belly rubs.
Finding her not sleeping but dead was traumatic for me. And now I had to tell my 4 and 6 year olds.
“I’m sorry buddies, but hedgie died,” I said and held out my blanket covered cargo.
Quiet stretched out through the room.
Then, “So what can we get now?” – L, 6 and socially and emotionally special
Hmm, maybe she hadn’t made the connection. I should probably try again.
Before I could A piped up asking for a cat. To which L replied that we couldn’t because Daddy is ‘lergic. And mommy already said we weren’t getting rid of daddy.
While I went downstairs with the body, the two argued about what pet would replace the hedgie. I bawled.
Where had I gone wrong as a parent? Where was the empathy? Maybe my children would be future sociopaths. I could practically hear the theme to The Omen in the background. Since I feel things so deeply, I was even more hurt by my kids lack of reaction.
I sat them down and explained that while we might someday get a new pet, no one could replace the one we’d lost. Each life is unique and special.
Then it was time to bury the hedgie. And A threw a fit.
“Put hedgie back in his cage.”
“Honey, he’s dead.”
“I still don’t want him to leave,” she said and reached for the shoebox casket. “He needs to stay here so he can’t go away.”
Aha. It wasn’t that I hadn’t explained the value of life. They didn’t understand the value of death. We hadn’t really had anyone die near us. Fish got flushed, so that didn’t count. For A, as long as hedge was still in the cage, he hadn’t really left her.
My husband and I are still trying to figure out the whole religion thing since even though we were raised with the same doctrine, our adult viewpoints have grown apart. While I take the kids to church, we don’t bring it into the home a lot. The kids know about God and Jesus, and being kind. Making good choices. But souls, heaven and the after and before life have not been discussed since it is a sore subject Jarom and I can’t agree on.
As we buried hedgie in the pond, I tried my best to explain at least my viewpoint in a way a 4 year old could understand. That our love ones remain with us even after they’ve died. The spirit lasts forever while the body can’t.
At least part of it took. Now A leaves mealworms near the spot where hedgie lived. I made the mistake of cleaning it up and now she’s sure hedgie eats them from beyond the grave.
As for L, the way her brain works is very concrete. Abstract concepts, including feelings, are still beyond her at this point. She couldn’t see hedgie anymore, so it was gone. But though she might not have recognized how she felt, she still felt an absence. “The cage is empty. It needs to be filled.”
Very practical, just like her daddy.
And she’s my little hedgehog with prickly exterior that can be near impossible to get through. But when I took the time to snuggle and rock her so she was comfortable, the tears came even though she didn’t know why.
What a brilliant post. I cant say anymore. I just loved everything about it. Have you considered writing a book about raising your children? I think you would be amazing at that!
Was hoping this was about coping with the loss of a beloved pet but instead a crappy article about 2 kids no one but you care about judging by how only 1 person commented on it.
We can learn a lot about life from the hedgehog and our internal hedgehog.