I acquired my first crazy crab after years of admiring from afar. I had the stickers, I had the book on care and maintenance, I had the habitat, food, salt crystals, water dish and extra shells ready to go. All I required now was a crab. Zippy was purchased late in the piece from a pavilion at the Perth Royal Show. For almost a week he traveled about with me in his little plastic carry cage until the end of the holidays, when we returned home. There he was installed in the deluxe fish tank environment I had prepared for him. (Hey, I was a kid! He's just lucky I didn't stash him in a matchbox or something.)

I noticed two little attachments on his face that the care book identified as parasites, but as there was no recommended way of safely removing them, they stayed. The name came about due to the little guys habit of disappearing the minute my back was turned. The book said to let your crab out for a stroll around the house (and over you) once a day. He would promptly zip off the moment you were distracted to hidden destinations. Under the fridge was a favorite. Boy, could that crab crawl.

As time went by Zippy seamed to spend less time moving. Was this the promised 'molt' the books talked of? Nope. I had several shells standing by but they never were tried on for size. Maybe he was just lonely. To cover all bases I purchased another hermit crab; this little one was about the size of a boiled sweet. I called her BonBon. As companions went, she was a huge success. Everywhere she went, zippy followed. He even curled up to sleep ontop of her shell. (of coarse, that could have been an aggression thing in crab parlance, but it kept them busy and out of mischief, so there it was.) But then Zippy began to move less and less. Eventually he stopped all together. 'Molt' time at last? If only that were the case. Zippy had gone to the great ocean in the sky.

Soon after I was reef walking with a friend down at the Grenough River Mouth when I saw what I took to be a rare wild hermit crab. Noting my excitement my friend asked me where I thought they came from - pet shops? Well, yeah. I thought they bred them. No, says my friend, they take them from the wild. This plays on my mind for a bit, as does the fact that BonBon is now an only crab, and the sad way Zippy faded away, happy to have had that one chance at a companion makes up my mind. On a clear spring day, in an area where hermit crabs dwelt in the wild, I let BonBon, a healthy young 'un, go free. May she have found happiness.