Geni

Recently my pet stick insect passed away. Parthenogenic or Geni for short (named after her method of reproduction: parthenogenesis) was a good friend and helped me get through exams, so I wanted to dedicate this post to the much missed bug. The cause of her death is still less than obvious as she was supplied with adequate amounts of food and water. Some suggest that she died from an overload of love.... I can’t argue against this theory. Maybe she couldn’t cope with our ‘quality time sessions’ and the tours of my bedroom I gave her. Possibly Geni wasn’t prepared to be loved as she was, the countless hours spent hanging out on my hand and on my desk as I studied Biology may have been too much for the delicate twig like animal.
I remember the first time I met Geni, after I mistook her tale for a head we got along smashingly. Ah, that first time I gazed into her branchy eyes.... I knew we would be the best of companions.




You may not be aware, but stick insects have a tendency to spread their moth-like wings and fly up to half a metre away, causing their owners to squeal in surprise. She flew only once in my presence... I think that was the time I was patting her too hard (again, too much love) and there was another time when I took a lunch break from studying and accidently left her unattended and out of her cage. I came back to find her on the wall opposite my desk.
Geni spent her days regulating her temperature whilst pretending to be a stick (a talent I was very proud of.) She loved eating gum leaves and laying eggs. During the time I knew her, Geni laid about 20 eggs, which will all hatch in 18 months and I shall have 20 miniature Geni clones because, as I mentioned earlier, she reproduces by parthenogenesis. Should she have stumbled across a boy stick in her short life, then Geni could have laid non-clone eggs. But she never got the chance to meet a boy stick... she never even got to live the full year of her life span.
I will never forget the way she glanced up at me with her legs waving chaotically in the air, she always knew just how to cheer me up. Her company alone was enough to help me study affectively, of course she didn’t appreciate it when I mistook her for a pencil, but she laughed it off and we got over that small mound in our relationship.
I was determined to look after Geni with lots of care and love because my previous pets (Brie and Feta, who were mice) died from neglect, and I wanted anything but the same fate for Geni. Unfortunately, the complete opposite of neglect also kills pets, especially ones which are more delicate than the twigs in your backyard.
Most people were either scared of Geni or thought she was weird.... or that I was weird for owning her. My cousins, uncle and auntie all jumped across the room in panic when I first introduced them to my new pet. Geni was rather offended, but we had a little chat and eventually she understood the uncontrollable discrimination she would have to face in the human world. Even more insulting to Geni was my grandmas first comment upon meeting her
“It isn’t alive is it?”
“Of course she is. She’s a stick insect”
“Oh! It’s creepy!”
It took me a while to calm Geni down, her dry/soundless/somewhat invisible and nonexistent tears sent shards through my heart, but we got through it together.
There were times when Geni would be unwinding and just taking it easy on my hand, when my imagination would get the better of me and visions of Geni crawling up through my noise and eating my brain would cross my thoughts.... but she taught me that fear is all in the mind and even the weakest of people can overcome their darkest fears just by changing their mind set. She also taught me that persistence and focus are crucial in preparing for exams, it was with her assistance that I managed to get through exam period.
After only three months of life – the final month of which I was honoured enough to have known her- Geni fell ill. I had been on the train reading ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,’ which I had just borrowed from the school library because I – disappointingly - don’t possess a copy of my own. I was eager to tell Geni all about Lupin and the others, who aren’t as important to name. But she wasn’t acting herself. Usually she perches herself amongst the actual sticks, attempting (almost always successfully) to blend in with her look-alikes, but on this particular day (Friday the 19th) she was at the bottom of her fish tank (which we like to pretend is a proper stick insect cage) and her legs were in awkward positions. She wasn’t even trying to camouflage herself. So I called the doctor and he rushed around with his black bag and stethoscope and fixed Geni up.... oh, wait... I’ve mixed up reality with the story I told myself whilst going through the denial stage after Geni’s death.
In a tangle of her own limbs, Geni struggled through her final hours. I did all I could: provided her with more water, placed her under a warm lamp, whispered comforting condolences in her ear etc. But her health continued to deteriorate and a positive outcome began to look unlikely. As she lay on her death bed, I held her little hand and played the song ‘Second Chance’ by the band Shinedown, because even though I don’t own the song and had to play it off Youtube, I knew it would help her. Because of her love for being as still as physically possible, it’s hard to tell the exact minute she died. But I can safely assume that when her head was no longer supported by her front legs, and she no longer responded to my loving touches, was when she bid the world a last farewell. Of all the ways to die, I think an abundance of love is a pretty nice way to go.

Goodbye Geni, you were more than a pet, you were a friend.