24 February 2005 It's over. After nearly four weeks of careful tending and attention, Hagrid is gone. Though it came as no great surprise, the disappointment still exerts an exhausting strain, a downward sort of pull that compels me to exhale with constricted sinuses, making a kind of whisper. Over and over again. I did the best I knew how to do. Even the collective wisdom of the message board couldn't save him. Nothing that was able to pull him out of the tailspin he was in from day one. There never was much hope, I suppose. Not much. But I kept trying, right to the last, and I'm at least glad to be able to say that much. And no, putting in this much effort for a hermit crab is not crazy. So long, my tiny friend. May you find kinder lands. Read Comments (1) | Add Comment

23 February 2005 We all promise ourselves it won't happen to us. But it does. I am starting to understand all those people I saw go before me. Somehow you just run out of steam. Or at least, you think you run out of steam, whether or not there's still some in there. And you find yourself working for a weekend that usually ends up just being a game of catch-up anyway. Sometimes I miss those days, old friend. Summer nights when it was so hot and we sat in my apartment desperately gulping iced tea and chain-smoking while we talked of our current projects. Back when we still had current projects to talk about and jobs were little more than an irritating detail in our day. And sometimes we'd drink coffee despite the heat, and sit on the balcony listening to the traffic on 107th whispering by and challenge each other until we had to declare an intellectual draw, by which point it was time to make a run up to the Petro-Can for more cigarettes and Doritos. I'm still figuring out how to do this now. Read Comments (0) | Add Comment

22 February 2005 It's been a long time since I've posted, perhaps because I've been preoccupied. The events that there are to write about are still happening. And writing is typically something I do after the fact. Hagrid lives still. But I doubt for much longer. He's lost three of his four walking legs and one of his two claws. I've done all I can. Now all I can do is sit back and wait. For either the inevitable, or a miracle. Whichever comes first. Read Comments (1) | Add Comment

03 February 2005 He hasn't moved in three days. But he's still alive. He gave me a little wave of his antennae this morning before I left for work. Stayed in the same spot, and wouldn't show his eyes. But he poked his feelers out a little and took a whiff of the world around him. I think he's still got a long way to go. Read Comments (1) | Add Comment