The following is Part Five of a
tribute to my bearded dragon, Wakka, who passed away December 4, 2021. This
series will include favorite memories and stories of my life with my companion
for five years.
Wakka has now been lain to rest. It had been one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my entire life, matching up with the grief of losing my dog Casper. Wakka was my baby, my son. To all my other pets, I’m “Brojah” (a form of “Brother” that I once said to Casper which actually stuck and that’s how he knew me, and as my cat Rose knows me as well), but to Wakka I was Dada. I even have a mug that says “Bearded Dragon Dad” which I have not made coffee in for the past six days, as I am no longer a Bearded Dragon Dad, and that, over the past five years, has been my favorite mug, the mug I made coffee in every morning. I’m also in doubt of ever having hooman children, not completely ruling it out, but it may not ever happen, so he was my first child. I loved him like a dad and he was my son, and I was a single parent. (I have no woman in my love life at the moment, so there was no mom.) I couldn’t have loved him more if I were a contributing factor in his conception. I had several nicknames for him as well, which, fortunately he never thought were his real names. “Li’l Goober,” “Mister Grump Grump,” “Wakka-Man the Grump,” “Mister Lizard-Man,” and “The Wakka Monster.” I think every parent has nicknames for their children, hoomans or fur babies. I’ve been called “Timbo,” “TimTim,” “Master Timothy,” and, to my hatred, “Timmy,” by my grandmother and at one of my last jobs (which I cringed every time I was called that, by the way, if anyone from my job at Test America is reading this, which I HIGHLY doubt) over the course of my life. (My full name is Timothy, but I’ve preferred to be called “Tim” since I was four years old.) This is probably going to be the last part of “A Tribute to Wakka,” so I’m going to talk about the present and the future. Wakka was buried December 7, 2021 under the deck of my house, and am working on a headstone. I’m going to be visiting him a lot, for sure. But for now, well… Wakka’s tank is in my office, where I am typing these essays. The room and the house feel so empty. It’s so dark in here (bearded dragons need heat and basking lights as they are coldblooded animals) the lights being off. I have all the lights on in my office except for Wakka’s lights and it feels like there’s no electricity in here. And I keep glancing over, which I constantly did, just to look at my little guy and see what he was up to, and I have to remind myself that he’s not here over and over again. I also imagined the things Wakka would say and say “Wakka says…” and realize he’s not here anymore to “say” anymore. All the things I try to say or do and have to catch myself. He was a fixture in my life for five years, and accepting he’s gone has been so difficult. For those who don’t know, I’m bipolar and mentally impaired (and the fact I’m so articulate is rather surprising, and I’m a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree English major and Journalism minor, which, being disabled and unemployed, is why I do this blog, it’s my job and my life, how I feel like I have a purpose). Wakka was my emotional support lizard, so the past six days have been EXTREMELY difficult, and my grieving responses have been badly elevated. Now, let’s talk about the Kübler-Ross model, commonly known as the five stages of grief. They are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I’ve been all over it. The fact I keep expecting Wakka is be here is denial. I’m so angry at God for taking my lizard the day after the eighth anniversary of Casper’s passing. Why is my beardie gone? It’s not fair! (Bargaining). I’m so sad Wakka’s gone, so depressed. It’s been a total jumping mess on the model for me. And I just can’t accept that he’s gone. This is just so difficult for me, as I’ve just explained in seven-hundred words. So, where do I go from here? My life just feels so empty without Wakka. It’s like a huge hole has been ripped from my heart. But I know Wakka would want me to celebrate his life, not mourn his death. Which is why I have been doing these five essays. So, I’m going to adopt a new beardie baby in January, (January 19th, 1988 is my birthday), one that needs a nice loving home, and a hooman who can take good care of it. I have to say, becoming a beardie dad was difficult. I’d never had a reptile companion before. He was my first. I had bought a bearded dragon handbook, but I know those of you with human children know they cannot properly prepare you for what parenthood truly is. This book was not useful AT ALL! So, in all honesty, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing October 28, 2016 when Wakka entered my office. And yet I was able to create a nice, safe, loving home for Wakka, where he was happy and healthy for five years. What I did raising him, I did absolutely right (the average beardie life is about five to ten years, so I did the best I could and got him to an average age). Well, he was usually happy until I had a kidney infection in October 19, 2020 and was hospitalized for a month. I think he felt I abandoned him. After all, a hooman’s life threatening illness is not something a beardie can truly comprehend, and when I came home he had a different personality. Or it just could have been as he was growing up, he hit… well, it was a transitional stage that human kids go through when they grow up and give their parents great frustration. But, whatever the reason, when I came in my office, he looked up at me with that big Wakka smile and it always made my life seem so much better, seeing that little creature look at me like I was the most wonderful thing in the universe. Which is why his death has been so difficult for me. But having a new beardie who might give me that look is something I very much want. I know it won’t be a replacement for Wakka, it’ll be a whole new being, but every human is different, and that’s how my new baby will be. But I think of this: going in with my new beardie baby, I have experience. I know what I’m doing. And THAT is a very big difference. This new beardie will have a great life with a loving dad. With Wakka, I was a “slather” (a male smother, a term I may have come up with, but I hope will soon be popular vernacular), but he loved it. He loved me, I loved him, and a new beardie baby will give me more love in my life and I will have all the love for it. Wakka knew nothing but for how to be loved and how to give that love back. And I want that again in my life. I actually have names for my next beardie (I know it's still more than a month away, but I love thinking about the future), which I am keeping hush-hush for now, it’ll be a surprise to everyone. I will say, however, the names come from some of my favorite video games, just like Wakka’s was, so it will be rather original and not a common pet name, which will make our lives very special. I can’t wait to bring it home, and you can expect to hear about this beardie when I get it and share the story of this beardie’s adoption with you. And I’ll leave you now with things to think of. If you’re reading this post, you should totally look at the other four posts of “A Tribute to Wakka” if you still haven’t done so yet to get a larger view of the life of Wakka Auron Cubbin. And if you are looking for a pet, totally consider a bearded dragon! They are great, loving companions, relatively easy to raise, and lots of fun to share time with! And, as ever, I have tons of other content on this blog, so you should totally check them out. And ‘til next time, Tim Cubbin… out!
No comments:
Post a Comment