I woke early this morning to discover that a whale had beached itself next to the pool.
After I stopped screaming and beating my chest, ripping my jammies from my chest, shaking my fist at the heavens and demanding of God, “Why? How could you let this happen to such a beautiful creature,” I calmed down. Mainly because I realized that no-one else was up yet and no-one was filming me for You-Tube.
That is kind of how I live my life now. I save emotions and funny lines. I only use them if I can tell that the record button is flashing. I don’t give away anything for free anymore. I have been over reacting for years and did not realize I was sitting on a gold mine. That shit is marketable!! I need advertisers in order to be me.
I tried calling Green Peace, they ignored me. I tried calling the local news stations, they were short people – everyone available had been sent out on one of two missions . . . to try and find out something about who Justin Trudeau is or to find someone who cares. They were obviously going to be tied up all month. I tried calling the local cat shelter and finally just started randomly dialing people’s phone numbers.
We are a cold, uncaring world of people, let me tell you.
I rushed out with my husband’s porridge pot, a ladel and some crystal something or other that someone gave me for either my wedding, my first menses party, or the scavenger hunt we had last year to try and find my sanity. They did not find it but someone did find a crystal dish. That might have been the one I grabbed. I knelt down near the whale and listened for heart sounds. I thought I could hear some .. faintly, but it might have just been my knee that my ear was pressed to. When I try and bend over, it can be pretty traumatic. Once my head moves past my chest, the world all goes kid of fuzzy and I frequently lose consciousness. It is either old age or the fact I flunked Yoga . . . because I never showed up .. ever. Regardless, the point is, once my head dips below my chest, I can’t see anything, everything is blurry. My knee, a beached whale … who can tell?
I had watched enough TV to know that I would never be able to push, pull or even roll the whale back into the water so I started to give the whale mouth to mouth. I would just feel it gaining strength and then, when I would start compressions on its chest, it just seemed to go limp again. I ladled water over it, and then crystal dished water, and finally used the porridge pot. I was screaming for my husband but he couldn’t hear me over his swearing and banging drawers open and closed in the kitchen, looking for his porridge pot.
I was weeping for the world and all this moment represented. Such a magnificent creature was going to die and all the best intentions of my heart were going to die with it. This was life at its rawest – beautiful cruel life that gives and takes with each breath. I put my hand on the whale and sang a haunting whale song I memorized from listening to one of those meditation cd’s – in whale language. I wanted the whale to know that it was not alone … and hoped that maybe it was at least relaxed, losing weight or having an out of body experience.
The birds stopped singing, the air grew still and I could feel the whale’s life slipping away. My tears flowed freely and I sobbed. I closed my eyes and gave in to the wracking sorrow that filled my soul and then … I felt a slight movement against my hand. I opened my hands and looked down … and could not believe what I was seeing. I blinked. I blinked again and then I leapt to my feet screaming.
NO NOT WITH JOY!!
A huge freaking HUNTSMAN SPIDER had crawled out from under one of the whale’s fins and had touched my hand.
I turned just in time to see the whale and the huntsman being propelled by my movement towards another galaxy. They were losing momentum and had stopped somersaulting over one another and then finally stopped before tumbling through the air back down towards the pool, and me. I could not believe my eyes as first the whale, and then the Huntsman, hit the water. The whale struggled to gain its equilibrium but it eventually righted itself.
The whale was safe!! Praise Jesus!
The Hunstman was drowning.
I ran screaming into the house to try and wash the ick off my hand from where the Huntsman had touched me. (You have no idea how resilient to scrubbing ick can be.)
Don’t start whining about the Huntsman and its death like it is beautiful or anything or that I should have saved it. I am not a trained lifeguard and I don’t know any Huntsman Spider songs. Also I am allergic to ich.
It died. Get over it.