It has to end. I just can’t care for him any longer. When he first came to us, I was vigilant about feeding him, looking after him, helping him reach his potential. But it’s been a month now and I just don’t think I can do it any more.
I could blame it on my busy life. Already caring for five males (one husband, three sons and a ginger cat), it would be reasonable to say I don’t have room in my life for another.
I could blame the injury. A fall at work last week left me on crutches for a day and my scraped right hand is still giving me gyp. It doesn’t need another task to undertake each day.
But if I were to be truly honest, I would have to admit that it’s most probably because I am bored. He’s had a pretty good life with us, three times longer than we were expected to keep him, but he’s starting to outstay his welcome.
I almost killed him over the weekend. He should have been fed on Friday. I remembered on Monday. He’s hanging in there but it doesn’t seem right to subject him to such neglect.
So it’s time to lay Herman to rest.
Herman is a chain-letter cake. Okay, so technically he’s Herman the German Friendship Cake but when it comes right down to it, he’s really just an edible version of those annoying chain letters that do the rounds. I’m not much of a fan of chain-anythings but in this case, at least we got cake. Multiple cakes, in fact.
The theory, having been given Herman by a ‘friend’ (see aforementioned opinion of chain letters and suchlike), is to look after and grow Herman until he is able to give of himself and to then pass him on to three friends while keeping one portion for yourself to bake into a cake. I thought it was clever to give away two portions, make a cake with one and then keep the last one to start all over again. Herman has been prolific in his sharing. I thought we’d be together longer. Others have lived for 25 years. It’s a romantic idea but impractical in a barely-managing household of teenagers and working parents.
I’m sorry, Herman.
At least you can cater for your own wake.