On a trip to New Orleans I decided to make my five-year-old son's dream come true, and bought him a small alligator. The drive home was nerve wracking. Every time my hand got near the glass container, the long-tailed creature snapped at me. But, Chuck would know how to handle him.
A New Addition To The Family
My late night arrival was eagerly greeted by my son. He took the new pet to his room and they fell in love with each other. The next morning I cautiously entered the bedroom to wake my son and found the alligator asleep on Chuck's stomach. No way was I going to try and move it. "Wake up," I whispered, so as not to disturb the reptile. That didn't work. So I tried louder, and yes, they both woke. Chuck picked it up, gave it a kiss—ugh—then put it in the container.
The neighborhood children came over to view his new friend. An older boy kept teasing the alligator until it caught his finger with its sharp teeth. He vowed revenge.
I got used to it sleeping with my son, and two huge containers of water blocking the floor in Chuck's bedroom.
One day, returning home from the grocery store, we found our door open. The house had been broken into. While in my room checking to see if my jewelry had been stolen I heard a loud scream. It was my son and he sounded like he was dying. I rushed to his room.
The alligator was alive, but barely. Someone had taken one of the bricks in his container and broken his neck. When death came, my son couldn't be consoled.
Thinking to take his mind off the immediate loss, I came up with the bright idea of an alligator funeral. Chuck thought it appropriate and invited the neighborhood.
Death Of A Pet
After lining a shoebox with satin material and digging a grave in one of the flower beds Chuck placed the reptile in its coffin. Everyone stood around while he talked about his pet and how sad he was to lose him and ended with "I know God loves him and will take him to heaven." He placed the box in the hole and said a prayer. I covered the grave. We served Cookies and Kool Aid for the wake and all enjoyed reminiscing about Chuck and his alligator.
I thought that's that, but, oh, no, the next morning I found it was far from over. First thing on waking, Chuck went outside and dug the coffin up to see if God had taken the alligator. He hadn't. After burying him again I spent the day trying to answer the question, "Why didn't God take him?"
The next morning, we went through the same routine. My explanation remained that God took the spirit, not the physical body, but Chuck was too upset and too young to understand. He kept asking, "Doesn't God love everything?" Of course, my answer was yes. What else could a mother say? I didn't know how to convince him to allow the body to rot and be happy that its soul went to God.
A slow learner maybe, but I caught on after the third day. When Chuck went to sleep, I slipped out to the 'grave' and dug the alligator up—again. After disposing of it, I buried the empty coffin.
Next morning when Chuck woke he rushed outside and opened the grave. He said, "Mom, Mom, God took him to heaven to live." We were both happy.
Lesson learned: Don't get a preschooler an alligator!
About The Author:
Elizabeth Orendorff lives in the Arkansas Ozarks. She has been writing for a year and a half. The Alligator tells of the
time she granted her then young son his wish and the lesson she learned.
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